Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals)

by Heather Long

  He chuckled against the comforter. “No worries, Sparrow. I trust you.”

  The words startled me and so did the first flush of pleasure that spread out at the declaration. I went to work on his back, slowly spreading the oil out and moving from his neck down. Every muscle interconnected, so tension in one could pull on the next, which in turn strained another. A pulled neck could wreck your back, and a strain in your lower back could leave your neck aching.

  Bit by bit, he seemed to melt into the bed. He didn’t say anything about just stopping at his back, so I worked on the back of his thighs, then down his calves and to his feet. I was careful to keep the towel from slipping. Though he’d let out a grunt when I massaged his glutes.

  To be fair, he had a nice ass, but it was tight in a way that said it would probably pull on his back if he wasn’t careful, so I worked to loosen it too. At some point, his half halting comments had faded away and his breathing deepened. I worked my way up to his occipitals and then used my knuckles to gently massage the back of his head. I didn’t want to get oil in his hair, but I swore he just seemed to sink deeper into the bed.

  His breathing came in slow, regular fashion. He was out like a light, and the tiredness in his expression also seemed to have eased. I slid off the bed carefully and then eased the towel off him because it was still damp. On quiet feet, I went to the bathroom and hung it up before I slipped into my room and snagged the comforter off the bed.

  Back in Kestrel’s room, he hadn’t moved. I spread the blanket over him, and yes, I looked at his naked ass. I’d seen plenty of nude bodies, but he really did have a nice ass. After I tucked him in, I indulged myself and brushed a kiss to the top of his head before I shut off the light and slipped out to go downstairs.

  The next day, I got Vaughn to drop me at the clinic on his way to work. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he had pulled an afternoon shift and I’d spent the whole morning in bed with him. I ached in all the right ways, and if he hadn’t had to go to work, I don’t know that we would have gotten up.

  Fortunately, we grabbed food on our way to the clinic. It was really busy when I got there, and Vaughn ushered me into Doc’s office and out of sight. With the sound of crying babies and more than one upset mother out there filtering through the walls, I used my new phone to surf the internet. The connection at the clubhouse was garbage on the phone.

  I could barely get a webpage to load, and it lacked some of the fancier features of my other phone. The one I still didn’t dare to turn on. But while I was in Doc’s office with no audience and no one to ask questions, I could do some research.

  It took time to scour the news sites. My disappearance had been downplayed at first. Then came the first false claims for ransom. A whole spread in one of the lifestyle magazines discussed my mother’s mini-breakdown and her commitment to a facility for exhaustion.

  Not quite rolling my eyes at that, I skipped over the family drama to find the actual news pieces. Apparently, some industrious types had decided to “ransom” me after I’d been declared missing for ten weeks. The ransom was paid, but a cooperative effort between the FBI and agents working for Sharpe Financial tracked the money and the would-be kidnappers.

  All but two had been killed in the raid. Those two admitted under questioning that they had never had me and just tried to bank on the effort. The article then continued to detail my uncle’s profound efforts to find me.

  My upper lip curled at his statement that the family would never give up until I was safe and home again.

  That site had links to other articles. In some, there were rumors that I had run off with Eric, but Eric’s disappearance at the same time as me made him a person of interest in my missing person status.

  The mentions grew further and further apart. The reward for information leading to my discovery had continued to rise. One video showed up, and it was my father making a plea for my return. My uncle stood just a foot to his left and right behind him, but he said nothing.

  He rarely did, in public. My father was the figurehead, the face of the company. He and my mother handled all of the public appearances. Yet even as my father’s quiet, well-worded if somewhat impersonal plea sounded up from the tinny speakers, I couldn’t look away from my uncle.

  It was like he knew I’d be watching.

  I snapped it off when it got to the end, then began to erase my search history, clearing it all before curling back up in the seat.

  Months, I’d been gone. Months. And from all appearances, they hadn’t given up on finding me.

  Paying it Forward

  Emersyn

  It was my dumb luck that the show’s two-week break fell during the charity ball season for the Manhattan elite. I’d already attended four with Uncle Bradley acting as escort. He loved the pageantry of the events. He’d also made a point of purchasing me a new dress for each one. After all, I couldn’t be seen in the same one each evening.

  Tonight’s dress was a deep forest green. Strapless, the bodice was ruched and shaped what breasts I had nicely. The rest of the dress fell in a straight line from the empire waist. Slits along both sides allowed for reveals of my legs. The shoes were expensive and dyed to match. The emerald choker on my neck seemed to dig into my skin just a bit. There was a tail of diamond encrusted platinum gold that fell from the back like a leash.

  Since it was the third such choker my uncle had put on me this week, I had a feeling he was making a point. The hickeys Eric had left on me hadn’t quite healed before I returned.

  Uncle Bradley’s reaction had been…incensed.

  Fortunately, the galas meant he couldn’t leave visible damage. That was something. The diamond and emerald shackles on my wrists glittered as we ascended the red carpeted stairs toward the Met. While this gala was only a precursor to the main event, it was still important that we mingle.

  I’d expected my parents to show up, but they’d been called away at the last minute to represent the company at another event. Better to divide and conquer, as Uncle Bradley always said.

  “Smile, Princess,” Uncle Bradley murmured against my ear as we reached the top step. My arm was firmly tucked into his with my hand on his forearm. It showed off the bracelet to great effect against the Saville Row jacket. A breeze stirred my skirt and bared my left leg just in time for one photographer to snap a picture of us.

  The scrape of his teeth against my earlobe before he pulled away was a warning. My smile was firmly in place when the second shot was taken, though a part of me wondered at the first picture. We slowed as men greeted my uncle, and I kept my smile in place as he glad-handed his way through a dozen well-wishers.

  I only half listened to the exchanges. Most regarded business that I couldn’t care less about. We were near the main doors when I caught sight of a familiar face.

  Lainey.

  She seemed to have spotted me at the same time. Her smile grew, and mine became so much easier. We were almost to them. His hand stayed firmly on my lower back for nearly all of his interactions. When he released me, I let out a relieved breath. It was a flaw in my performance, a chink in my armor. No way he hadn’t noticed it.

  Rather than dread what was to come later in retaliation for that rather public faux pas, I took Lainey’s extended hand and let her pull me away. “You look amazing,” she told me. “It’s been ages.”

  “I know,” I said, only wishing I wasn’t admitting this within my uncle’s earshot. Lainey wasn’t good enough to be a Sharpe roommate. Whatever. Lainey had kept in touch on and off. “Was it last June?” I’d lost track somewhere. Where had we even been?

  “It was last April,” Lainey said with a laugh. “At the show in Paris. You were fantastic, and I was so surprised to see your name.”

  Right. I shook my head. “I barely got out of the rehearsal rooms. I never did get any sightseeing in.”

  “You went to Paris and didn’t actually see Paris?” Utterly scandalized, Lainey shook her head, but her eyes sparkled. “Unacceptable. I insi
st, girls’ trip at some point.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” It really did.

  Her smile dimmed a fraction as she gazed past me, then her mouth set in a thin line as she shook her head. With the kind of effort I recognized and was all too familiar with, Lainey refocused her attention on me. “Good. Let’s make it happen…”

  “Elaine.” The greeting came from behind me. Pivoting, I glanced up at the good-looking guy in the tuxedo. He wasn’t much older than us, tall, lean built, with dark hair and dark eyes. Everything about him seemed to hold a chill except when he focused on Elaine. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “I didn’t plan on it,” Lainey said. “Go away.”

  He laughed, but it held less mirth than his smile suggested. Transferring his cool attention to me, he held out a hand. “Adam Reed, and you are…”

  “She is utterly unimpressed,” Lainey informed him as she hooked her arm through mine. “And we’re going inside.”

  Okay. She didn’t want me to talk to him. Got it. Lainey was my friend, not whoever Adam Reed was.

  “Adam,” my uncle said in a booming voice. “Good to see you.” It was hard to miss how easily Adam shifted gears to steely politeness as he and my uncle shook hands. They clearly didn’t like each other.

  Oh, that put points in Adam’s corner. Sorry, Lainey.

  “How is your father?”

  “He’s well, sir. I’m sure he’ll be terribly upset to have missed you.”

  I almost snorted but managed to restrain it because the temperature around us plummeted. My uncle did not like to be dismissed. “Not to worry,” he responded. “The shares I just secured will see me seated on the board. I’ll catch up with him at the board meeting next week. Enjoy your evening. Princess.”

  The snap of command on the last two syllables had me casting an apologetic look at Lainey before taking my uncle’s arm again.

  “You didn’t introduce me,” Adam mused, a damn near sadistic grin on his face. If I weren’t right in the middle of this nightmare, I’d want to egg him on.

  “You’re right,” my uncle told him smoothly. “I didn’t.” Then Uncle Bradley slid an arm around my waist. His fingers bit into my side. There would be bruises in the morning. While we were hardly running, he directed us into the Met itself. We nodded and exchanged cordial smiles, but he kept us moving.

  It didn’t take long for him to direct us behind a velvet rope to a darkened hall and an executive, and very private, bathroom. My heart sank as he unlocked the door. As soon as we were inside, I found myself pinned to the wall.

  “You will stay away from the Benedicts and the Reeds, Princess.” Each word slapped me. “Do you understand?” But it was his hand under my dress where he gripped my cunt, his fingers pinching brutally. The bruise on it wouldn’t be visible, but I could barely breathe around the pain.

  “Yes,” I said as calmly as I could. I refused to cry. I hadn’t shed a fucking tear for him since my tenth birthday when he rewarded me with a long weekend away.

  A weekend I wish I could tear out of time.

  Forever.

  He studied me intently, then removed his hand and feathered the fingers of his free hand against my cheek. “That’s a good girl, my sweet princess. That young man will do nothing but bad things. He’d use you to get to me, and we can’t have that. I won’t have anyone else touching you.”

  There was the warning.

  I nodded when he paused and stared at me. Then he brushed a kiss to my cheek, all smiles as he moved to the sink to wash his hands. “Freshen up, Princess. It’s going to be a long night.”

  It already had been.

  “We’re going to have so much fun together,” he promised, the softness in his voice a velvet gloved lie. “I promise.”

  Chapter 21

  Emersyn

  “Come on in,” Doc said as he held the door open for me. He’d closed the clinic early. But he said he did that at least once a week because he did most of the work at the clinic himself.

  “Do you not have any help there?” I asked as I walked inside his place. His apartment was in a building not that far from the clinic. We’d barely driven a couple of blocks before he pulled into a parking lot next to a ten-story building. His apartment was on the fourth floor. Thankfully, they had an elevator, rickety as it was.

  It made me laugh when I realized it used the old-fashioned and manual accordion doors. Not so much when it gave a distinct shudder on our way up. I’d gripped Doc’s hand abruptly and squeezed it. He chuckled and pulled me into his side.

  “It’s safe enough, Little Bit. Don’t worry.”

  Yeah, easy for him to say. The shudder it gave when we stopped at his floor made my teeth ache. The place had to have stairs. Fire code would demand it. I could easily take the stairs.

  Good exercise, anyway.

  Better than the possessed elevator from hell.

  Doc chuckled at me all the way to his apartment door. The scent of Indian food, rich curry, and spices perfumed the hall. My stomach rumbled in appreciation. It was pretty institutional in the hallway. Bland colors, clean floors, and otherwise empty.

  His apartment was different.

  It had spots and splashes of color everywhere.

  “I do have help at the clinic,” Doc told me as he set his backpack down on the floor below a row of hooks. He hung up his keys and his jacket next. There were four deadbolts on the door, and he threw all of them once he’d closed it. “Just only a couple of days a week. A nurse comes in to help out if I have female patients.”

  He’d mentioned that.

  “But you do everything else? Administration? Cleaning? Seeing the patients? Opening? Closing?” It seemed like a lot. I traced my gaze over the prints on the wall. Most of them were photographs. Some were of Doc, in the military. There was desert behind him in one shot. Ocean in another. Still, a tree-lined pathway in another. I didn’t know any of the people with him.

  “It’s my clinic,” he answered. The sound of the fridge opening and closing echoed through the quiet room. He walked back out with a couple of beers. He held one out to me. “Have a drink and a seat. I need to grab a quick shower and change.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured when he handed me the beer. “I’m going to kind of miss the scrubs.” No lie. He really did look good in them.

  His chuckle was genuine and aching with a hint of disbelief. “If you say so. Remote is there,” he said, pointing to the coffee table. “There’s chips in the pantry if you can’t hold out until I fix us some grub. The sofa is moderately comfortable, the chair is better. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Mickey,” I said before he took two steps, and he paused. “Thank you for having me over.”

  The corner of his mouth hitched a little higher into a near lopsided smile. “Little Bit, you’re welcome anytime.”

  “Great, as long as I can skip death’s elevator.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll hold you on the way down, I promise it will be better.”

  Snorting, I raised the beer to my lips and turned away so he could go grab his shower. No door closed after him, so either he had the softest doors on the planet or he hadn’t closed them.

  I took another swallow of the beer rather than consider what that meant. Instead of sitting, I explored the living room. Instead of art, he had pictures of places—a house, a community center, and the clinic were all featured prominently. There was a shot of a woman with dark hair and kind eyes. She was older, and that photo sat on a bookshelf with a lot of well-worn copies of everything from Tom Clancy to Gandhi. Fiction. Non-fiction. I studied the titles before I continued my circuit.

  More pictures. I picked out a younger Doc—Mickey in one of them. Here at his place, I should probably call him by his name. He had a kind of carefree smile on his face, and he had his arm around another guy, a kid really, in a kind of headlock and was rubbing his head. They were both laughing.

  Everything about the picture just ma
de me smile. When I spotted Jasper and Rome in a shot near it, I studied it closer. Mickey was seated on what looked like a picnic table, and he was in deep discussion with Liam and another guy. They were all younger in the photo.

  A lot younger. Liam still looked a bit like a cocky asshole. I tracked my gaze to where Rome stood. He held himself back, hands in the pockets of a hoodie that seemed familiar. It probably should, since I was wearing it. I couldn’t tell if he was irritated by the conversation or just focused. But Jasper was right behind him, and he mugged straight at the camera.

  He flipped it off, mouth open and tongue out like he was saying something.

  It probably shouldn’t make me laugh, because everything else in the image was so intent and focused, but Jasper radiated fuck off energy as clearly as if he were standing here. There was history on these walls.

  A lot of history.

  My heart squeezed at a picture of Doc in a graduation cap and gown. He looked determined but pleased. He would have been my age there. But his eyes seemed older. A shot in the frame next to it had that same dark-haired woman, and she beamed proudly at him.

  Had to be his mom.

  Envy slid through me, side by side with pleasure. I was glad he had someone who cared.

  I found more pictures of kids and Doc. The other kid from the picture with Jasper, Liam, and Rome was present in more than a few. More than any of the others. I didn’t find Kestrel in any shots, but I did find Freddie.

  He was all the way in the background of a shot, and I leaned in close, squinting. In the picture, he looked too thin, too pale, too shaky…

  “That was taken three days before his first OD,” Mickey said quietly. If I hadn’t been expecting him to come back, the fact he was right behind me might have sent me leaping. He was so silent on his feet.

  “First one? How many times has he?”

  Mickey shrugged. “Three unintentional ones that I know of.”