“I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore.”
“You’re an easy woman to like, Nicole.”
“Like but not love?”
Here they went. “I’m sure many men are in love with you.”
“They are. But none are…” she placed her hand on his pec and looked up at him “…you. I could love you, you know.”
Could. Interesting choice of words.
“You know how well…” she trailed her manicured fingers down his chest to his belt buckle “…I love.” She licked her lips and began to bend down to her knees.
This woman’s mouth was familiar—too familiar. Two years ago, he’d have thrust his cock down her throat until he was spent even with people a few feet away. Two years ago, his head wasn’t full of a certain dancer with her delicious-looking, pink lips, however.
He grasped her wrists and pulled her up. “Another time.”
Lines around her eyes deepened. “There may not be another time.”
“My loss then.”
“Yes, it is. In more ways than one. Or perhaps I should die my hair… red?” She arched an eyebrow.
A muscle twitched in his eye. “Look, Nicole—”
“You’re a fool, Carragh MacKenna. Dallying with strippers is one thing. But you think they’re…” she tossed her chin in the air and toward the crowd inside “…just going to let you walk away?”
“I don’t walk.”
She smirked and breached the last bit of space between them. “Let me rephrase.” She batted her eyelashes up at him. “Or let you take over?”
His gut twisted. Perhaps he’d underestimated Nicole’s intelligence or observation skills. Someone wasn’t just talking about him. Someone was putting two-and-two together and coming up with things he’d barely voiced.
She leaned forward, rolled her bottom lip into her teeth, and let it go with a smack. “Oh, I know all about your little obsession with a certain redhead. But you’d be wise to choose someone more intelligent to sit next to you on your throne—someone who knows the family business.”
“I already know the family business.”
“Ah, but do they…” she inclined her head once more toward the inside room “…know what business you’re cooking up? Do they know how much time you spend down at the waterfront?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” That damned muscle twitched in his eye again. In addition to his plans, too many people also kept bringing up Shakedown for his taste.
“Whatever you say, Carragh.”
She lifted his jacket off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. “Thanks for keeping me warm. For a bit.”
She was right about one thing. He had been a fool. One, for ever letting this woman near his cock, and two, for letting anyone know of his plans. Three people had been told, which meant he had three mouths to now cap: Declan, who knew by accident, Petra, who knew by merely being present to his phone calls, and more recently, Sean, who knew by pushing Carragh into a corner.
He grabbed his jacket and jogged down the back steps. He wasn’t going another night to find out who the hell was trying to force his hand. He’d start with the obvious person first—the one who hated his guts.
10
Luna fingered the oval silver locket, the size of a small clamshell. “Are you sure you found this in… that?” She pointed to the musty old army-green jacket that he’d worn constantly the last time few times she’d seen him—that is, before he’d become so bedridden.
“Yes. Look inside,” Maven urged.
Luna cracked it open and found two photographs, one on each side. The man pictured on the left wasn’t even looking into the camera. But on the other side, the spitting image of her mother smiled back at her.
She glanced at her father who lay asleep in the big hospital bed, so shriveled he was nearly swallowed by a checkered blanket. The man in the picture could be him.
She’d like to have asked him about this strange finding, but he didn’t recognize her and was now slumbering and maybe dreaming of times lost inside his head.
Maven touched her arm. “I’m not allowed to say much around the patients here, but you and your sisters may want to come visit a bit more often. I mean…” She glanced down at Luna’s father, pity crossing her features at seeing the man who’d shrunk to half his size from when Luna had lived with him, seventeen long years ago.
“He doesn’t have much time left?”
“I have been working with people dealing with Alzheimer’s my whole life, honey. And I know when they’ve had enough themselves, if you know what I mean. They tend to… choose.”
Choose when to die. What a thought. “Thanks for calling me. And for this.” She lifted the locket and silver chain it was affixed to.
“I knew right away that woman inside is your momma, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She tucked the item in her purse, which clinked against her phone. That only reminded her she had to meet her sisters soon.
At least being summoned to her father’s bedside gave her something to occupy the first half of her day. She’d had too much time lately to think, to muse about the stupidest things. She should be running choreography in her head or planning the grocery shopping. Instead, her mind drifted to imaging what Carragh MacKenna was up to.
His sudden disappearance, even if she had demanded it, felt odd. No limo sightings, no blue eyes shining at her from the darkened audience.
“Well, you all visit anytime.” She patted Luna’s back. “We don’t pay much mind to visiting hours. Just come when the mood strikes.”
She might stop by, but Starr and Phee? They’d visit when hell was a frozen tundra. Her sisters had said their piece long ago. She, however, had little to say. Rather, she had questions.
Did he love them—truly? And why did he leave her relatively alone but focus most of his rages on her sisters? And why had he kissed her on the cheek at child protective services but not Starr? That last one had bothered her her whole life.
Starr didn’t seem to remember much about that day he left them with strangers. She seemed to think he dropped them off. He hadn’t. She remembered every detail as clear as the man who now dented a hospital bed.
Phee was in the hospital, the event that led to Child Protective Services showing up at their doorstep. They announced in a hushed voice that Phee would live. Starr’s eyes could have driven nails into their father’s back at that moment. They didn’t know she’d been in danger of dying.
He'd gripped the door frame with his beefy hand, sweat stains forming a long oval down the side of his shirt—and nodded slowly. He then pushed the door open for them to step inside.
Them. Two men and an elderly woman with an annoying sing-song voice crouched down to Starr, who had stayed standing. Luna had cowered by the couch. A cold terror had gripped her heart and her legs shook.
There was no coaxing her to come forward. One of the men simply reached down and lifted her into his arms. She hadn’t even fought it, though he smelled funny and his face was a stone mask of nonchalance.
Their father, in that beat-up tan sedan, had followed the car that drove them to the government office. He then had taken Luna by the shoulders, stared down at her with red-rimmed eyes that held a misery she’d not seen before. She peered up at him, wanting to know what was going on, what was he doing? Letting these strangers take them?
For the next few days, as she and Starr stayed in some family’s attic room that smelled of sawdust and mothballs, she’d honestly believed he’d be back for them. He never did return.
“Dad?” she asked the sleeping man.
He didn’t stir. She needed to go anyway.
The hallway, which resembled more of a hospital than any other place he’d been placed, was still. A man dozed in a wheelchair down the hallway, and a nurse pushed open a door with her butt and disappeared further down. So, this is where the forgotten go in their final days.
Thank God she had her sisters. Not having anyone
in your life had to be truly awful.
It made her think of Carragh. He had a big family and yet seemed to have no one, in an odd way.
She blasted the air conditioning for a few minutes, just to clear her head, and pulled out of the parking lot.
What did Carragh do at night? Did he live alone? Or did he bring a different woman home every night just to keep the sheets warm?
She got so mired into thinking about him, she pulled into the parking lot of the Phoenix Rising Dance Studio, not even realizing how she’d gotten there.
She hoofed it inside to find Naomi and Starr at the near end of the ballroom space, bantering about something. Behind them, two girls were fanning out the parachute silk as if readying themselves for an aerial practice over a round crash mat.
Naomi raised an eyebrow. “I think she can do it.”
“Ten bucks says he gives her a credit only.” Starr held up her fist.
“You’re on.” They fist-bumped.
Starr turned to her. “L., want in on the bet? Phee wants to return forty-two costumes that her seven-year-olds have already grown out of before the performance.”
“Good luck with that one.”
“Hey,” Naomi called to a girl who had climbed even higher on the silks. “Be careful.” She jogged over and grasped the silk ends.
“My,” Starr whispered under her breath to Luna. “Naomi certainly has taken to her role seriously.”
It was a far cry from her stripper days from which Phee had rescued her. That horrible Maxim’s place where she and her sisters also had escaped from. Even there, Phoenix had taken more abuse than she had.
Phee strutted in, waving her phone. “Done and done. Naomi, package them up.”
“Get out.” Starr’s mouth dropped to an ‘O.’
Naomi flounced back to them and held out her hand for her winnings from Starr.
Luna dropped her purse in a chair on the side wall and herself in the other one.
“What’s up with you?” Starr frowned.
“Just came back from seeing Dad.”
Phee frowned at her. “Please don’t spoil my great day. I have news that matters.”
Naomi pointed to the back storeroom. “That’s my cue.”
After Naomi disappeared, Luna turned to her sisters. “You need to know he probably doesn't have much time left.”
Phee held up her hand to stop any more words from spoiling her day.
“So, what's your news?” Just dropping her visit would be the wisest course of action. Sharing anything about their father only raised their familiar anger regarding their past with him. There would be time later to share the locket with them.
“Well, it's more like a decision. I already told Starr. It's time for me to stop dancing onstage. In fact, I haven't for the last couple of weeks, and honestly, I don't miss it at all.”
“I wasn’t surprised to hear this.” Starr smiled at her. “You’re an awesome teacher.”
Phee appeared thoughtful. “I am.”
Oddly, Luna was shocked to learn of this development. “But… your acts?” Phee’s matador act was one of the most popular at Shakedown, and they had several new group routines that had gone over so well in the last year.
“You don’t need me for them. I’m going to teach full-time. And then there will be a new dancer pool.”
Luna sucked in a long breath. “And this will truly make you happy?”
“Are you kidding? I own a dance studio.” She spread her arms wide. “Well, partly own. But yes.”
“Then that’s what you need to do.” Luna was happy for her sister, honestly. It’s just she didn’t think changes would happen so suddenly. But then she was the one to insert their father back into their lives. She hadn’t meant for it to get so messy.
“Wow, things have really changed in the last year, haven’t they?” Luna asked.
“Mostly for the better, I’d say.” Phee wasn’t normally this optimistic.
Starr pulled her sisters closer. “Well, why not make it a good news day all around? It's still really early yet, but…” Starr took a hand of each of them and placed them over her belly “…you two are going to be aunts. Due around Christmas.” She cocked her head back and forth. “Or thereabouts. I must have gotten pregnant before we even got married.”
Luna’s jaw fell open. “Wow. Oh, my God. I can't believe it.” She placed her other hand on Starr’s stomach. “A baby.” She bounced up and down in place.
“I know, right. Can you imagine? Me? A mother?”
Phee’s eyes misted and she hugged Starr tight. “You’re going to be the best mom.”
“Let me in there.” Luna wrapped her arms around them, her nose full of Phee’s cinnamon scent. A little boy or girl? Or maybe twins—one boy and one girl. That would be the best because then she could buy any baby clothes that looked cute.
She broke the huddle first. “Hold up. When will Momma Cherry know?”
Phee laughed a little. “I’m going to need earplugs to block out the excited screaming for that day.”
“Dibs on first babysitting duty.” Luna held up her hand. “If I don’t get it in now, Momma is going to swoop in… oh, and I’m in charge of her wardrobe.” Luna would like nothing more than a baby to cuddle and spoil and love with all her heart.
“So sure it’ll be a girl?” Phee scoffed.
“Or his wardrobe. Or maybe twins.” She bobbed her head up and down at Starr’s shocked face. “Now, what are the nursery colors?”
“It’s a little soon for that.”
“Never. All the rage is to have neutral colors—not sway the gender thing.”
Phee raised both her eyebrows and glanced around. “Wait a minute. You’re pregnant and Nathan let you leave the house without him?”
Luna burst out laughing. And it felt so damned good. When was the last time she laughed?
Sure, nothing truly would ever be the same again. Starr probably was not far behind Phee when it came to leaving her performance days behind. But a baby would be so much better! Her mind swam with little outfits she could buy, and chubby arms and legs, and little baby giggles.
“You’re right, Luna. So much change.” Starr grasped both her sisters’ hands once more.
This last year had seen a seismic shift in their lives—and now, even more would come.
“One thing hasn’t changed,” she said.
“Sisters forever. Friends always,” they said in unison.
Her good feelings stayed with her until she got back in her car to head to Shakedown. Phee and Starr were now settled, their futures stretching out before them like a paved road. It’s what she’d always wanted—stability for all three of them. Now, two were settled.
As for her? She had no idea what her future had in store. That was the only thing that was really unsettling her, to not really know where her life would go, how it would end up.
When her mother died, she left fond memories. When her father died, he’d leave nothing behind but misery. And when she died? What would she have left? She’d be some distant memory of a good time someone once had when visiting a burlesque club. Not much of a legacy.
Her thoughts drifted to Carragh—a man where family meant something, even if it was twisted and dark.
She hadn’t seen him for three weeks and two days—a time frame she really needed to stop counting already. He was staying away as requested. Yet somehow, it felt worse when he wasn’t there. The club had seemed… quiet, too quiet.
Phee would say his absence was worse because the most dangerous snakes were those you couldn’t see.
Starr would say it was because he was off making plans for the MacKennas’ next assault.
Neither was wrong.
But Carragh wasn’t a snake or a soldier. He was something entirely else—an enigma that she couldn’t stop trying to decipher.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the locket. At a red light, she slipped it over her head. Maybe someday she’d pass it down to her own daughter
—if she ever got so lucky to have her own family. If she did, it couldn’t be with someone who was tied to violence—even if he lured her like a Venus flytrap. She’d had enough of that in her lifetime.
She pulled into the Shakedown parking lot just as Cortelana and Sally Mae were doing the same. She waved to her fellow dancers as she popped her trunk. She reached in and pulled out her garment bag holding her blue velvet dress, her Steamboat Sally sailor outfit, and another duffel bag filled with panties, cheap satin gloves, and other little items that really needed a good soak in a gentle washing cycle. Living alone meant one good thing—having the washing machine to yourself.
She pushed open the bright pink makeup room door and found Cherry in a full-on tizzy.
“Emergency. Crisis. Defcon one.” Cherry was picking items out of a large canvas makeup bag with Life Can Be Beautiful. Can You Be? etched on the side.
Nicholas/Nikki had slunk behind his makeup counter after giving Luna a big wide-eyed “Don’t ask me” look. Aspen was rummaging through a big trunk in the back of the room. “None in here,” she called.
Luna dropped the duffel bag at her makeup station. “What’s wrong?”
“I cannot find my eyelash glue and I have thirty minutes before these have got to be on.” Cherry fanned her large brown eyes. “Oh, no. Do you think the drug store down the street has any? I could get Max to run out.” She rustled through the big drawer in her makeup stand.
After hooking her garment bag on her stand, Luna grabbed her makeup bag and tossed it at her. “Use mine.”
“You know it has to be latex-free.” She whispered the last two words.
“I have both in there.”
Cherry unzipped the bag and within seconds pulled out the tiny tube of latex-free glue, pinched between her two long red fingernails.
“Oh, thank all the goddesses. The night has been saved,” she called out loudly and lifted the tiny tub toward a smiling Aspen. “Momma Cherry does not go on without her eyelashes.”
Luna pecked her on the cheek.
“Careful.” She sang. “I’m moisturized, shaded, and contoured.”
Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3) Page 6
