Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
boston
“What the hell?”
I glance across our usual booth, just in time to see Forker’s eyes narrow into slits. It’s not a crazed look, like the one he sports before he’s about to almost kill someone, but neither that face nor his tone is pleased.
I follow his gaze, and it takes me less than half a second to figure out what has his attention.
Quite frankly, it’s because she has everyone’s attention.
The crowd practically parts for her. High-neck, long-sleeved, little black dress that barely covers her ass.
Slit on the thigh, exposing a hell of a lot of skin.
Her long, thick, blonde hair is pin-straight and tucked behind her ears.
She turns, smiling flirtatiously at a group of idiots who literally stop their conversation just to look at her.
Dark, winged eyeliner with glitter all over her lids, Ariana Forkerro flashes them a wink and wiggles her fingers in their direction.
She looks like she’s dressed to hit the town in the ritziest parts of New York City. She’s dressed to break the hearts of every poor man in the vicinity. She surely doesn’t look like she should be slumming it at Icebox with this group of hockey players.
Forker stands, nearly knocking his glass of J?ger over. By the tightness in his shoulders and the way his jaw is set, it would appear that his younger sister did not let him know she would be visiting from California.
He shoves Wyatt and EJ out of the way, practically crawling over their laps, desperate to get to his sister before she gets to us. She’s closer now, making her way toward us on heels that should be illegal to walk in, those short legs looking mighty fucking long.
I blow a bubble, trying to look away. I really should.
I seem to look at her a bit too long whenever she’s in the room.
I’ve only met her a handful of times, and trust me, I was far too interested in the way her mouth curved at the bow and how mischief danced in her eyes every time she looked at me.
Ariana Forkerro is bad news. Bad, bad news.
“Hi, boys.” She smiles, glossy painted lips pulling back to reveal a perfect set of teeth.
Forker grabs her by the arm—firm, but gentle. He tugs her toward him, studying her face. It’s the concern that an older brother should wear when his little sister shows up out of the blue.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, angling his head, scanning her over. “Everything okay?”
“Can I not visit my darling brother?” she asks, peering up at him. There’s a hard look in her eye, though. Gives her away.
“You can, but you typically don’t unless I’m fronting your ticket,” he grunts, letting her go.
He crosses his arms in front of him, eyes searching her face for an answer she isn’t giving.
They can read each other without words. It’s a sibling thing.
The sign of a good relationship. I’ve never had that.
Ariana ignores him, turning back to the table instead. She takes in each face, one by one, until she lands on me.
I blow another bubble and that fucking smile turns blinding.
Ignoring her brother, she saunters forward and leans down on her forearms. Right in front of me.
She angles her head, platinum blonde hair falling like a wave over her shoulder.
I force myself to keep my eyes locked on her face.
That dress is skin-tight, and that hair has me thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be.
She is Forker’s sister.
She studies my face, that same look from our first meeting on the ice dancing in her eyes. “Hi, Boston Black. Fancy meeting you here.”
I can’t help it; my lip twitches upward. “What did I ever do to you for you to want me dead?”
She cocks a brow, her eyes darting to my mouth. Unfazed that I’ve caught her looking, she snaps her gaze back to mine again. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
I bring my glass of whiskey to my lips, more than aware of the looming presence behind her. “You can’t be looking at me like that with your big, bloodthirsty brother standing right behind you. I’ve seen him swing for less.”
She purses her pink lips, but doesn’t even bother to check if Forker is breathing down her neck. He is. His jaw is pulsing, his eyes burning a hole in the back of his little sister’s head. I can’t see him past her, but I know him far too well to know I’m right.
“Look at those arms,” she says, gesturing toward my biceps. Her eyes flash back to mine and she waves me off. “He’s not so scary. You could take him.”
Maybe, but I’d never fight him. That’s my boy.
Plus, it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s the other guy who lives inside him. I don’t think there is a single person on this planet who could win against The Beast if he truly wanted them dead.
“I swear to god, Ari. I’m going to put you in a fucking home,” Forker grumbles. His hand is around her arm again as he tugs her away from me. She stumbles back, a shit-eating grin on that mouth, holding my gaze for much longer than she should.
They are definitely related. Trouble. Both of them.
Forker nods at Wyatt and EJ. They slide deeper into the booth, squishing in against Seth and Declan. I give it five minutes before Arden sweeps in here from across the bar and kidnaps Ariana so that she can be with the girls. I hope she does. I have a feeling Forker isn’t going to be much fun.
“Sit,” he barks.
She glares up at him. “I think I’d prefer the other side of the booth.”
My side.
I almost chuckle, but I hold it in. I don’t think Fork would appreciate me finding those kinds of comments funny.
Forker sucks in a long, frustrated breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to center himself, but The Beast is inside him, inching toward the door of his cage. “I think I’d prefer for you to be a normal fucking human being, but we can’t always get what we want. Sit down.”
Ariana rolls her eyes, but slides into the booth. She offers her hand to the boys she has yet to meet. They don’t appear to know where to look, as if they’ll lose their lives if they touch her.
Forker shoves himself into the booth next to her, shooting me an apologetic look when EJ finally takes Ariana’s hand in his with an intrigued wonder in his eye.
I smirk at Fork, shrugging it off. I don’t mind her attention. She’s interesting, and I’d never step over that line, so he doesn’t have to worry about me.
“Start talking,” Forker says, just as she finishes introducing herself to Seth.
“I just wanted to come see you!” she says, holding out her hands. “God, is that a cardinal sin now?”
Forker stares at her skeptically. His jaw tenses, trying to deduce if she’s being honest. She meets that stare with more bravery than men three times her size. Doesn’t balk. Doesn’t back down. She is probably the only person in the world who isn’t scared of her brother.
“How’d you get here?”
“On a plane,” she answers, shooting him a look that tells him he’s an idiot.
“No, how,” he says, tapping the table. “Money-wise.”
“I have money.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I have a job, Carter.”
“Had,” he corrects, “and you just bought a house with your savings, so nice try.”
The way she shrinks in her seat makes me wince. Her cheeks flush, those blue eyes snapping to mine for a quick second to check if I heard that part. It’s too late for me to look away, so I just take another drink and feign indifference.
Not judging you, sweetheart.
“My god, does Mom tell you everything?” she grumbles.
“When she’s worried about you, yeah,” Carter bites out, craning forward to force her to look at him. “Why didn't you tell me that? And how did you get here?”
I’m a bit confused. Always thought the Forkerros had money. Their dad is a big real estate guy in California. Their mother, even after their divorce, hasn’t worked a day since that ring was put on her finger. Why in the hell would their baby struggle to buy a plane ticket?
“Took an IOU from Dad.”
Carter’s brows skyrocket. “What?”
“Oh, like you haven’t.”
“Years ago, before I had any money,” he says, and he reaches forward, gripping her chin in his hand and forcing her face to his. She pushes back against his hold but he keeps her there, studying her eyes and every inch of her face.
“What are you doing?” she seethes, smacking at his hands.
“Are you on drugs?”
EJ coughs on his drink, bursting into laughter, but my blood goes cold.
I stare at her as carefully as Forker does.
I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I know how to spot a user from a mile away.
I think I would have noticed when she was in my face, staring at my mouth, but my anxiety spikes a bit anyway.
“Oh my god,” she hisses, slapping his hands off her. “You’re insane!”
“No, you’re insane,” he snaps back. This is turning into a full-on sibling argument. “I told you the second I went pro that you come to me for money. I won’t make you pay shit back, especially not when you’re using it to come and see me.”
“I’ve asked you for too much already,” she mutters, shrinking in her seat. Her mortification is palpable, and I feel bad for the girl. None of us needed to know she lost her job. “I need a drink.”
That’s my cue. “What do you want?”
She and Forker both look at me. I need out of this conversation before I go down the rabbit hole and start seeing things that aren’t there.
The last thing I want is for anyone at this table to have to endure the kind of life I had.
Loving an addict. I’m certain that Ariana Forkerro does not fall into that category, but now it’s been mentioned, and my mind is reeling.
Forker gives me those apologetic eyes again, like his sister is a liability and he’s sorry for it. I wish he knew how good he has it to have her so close, to have her running to him when she needs someone. That kind of family is much rarer than you would think.
Ariana’s eyes are a bit less tantalizing when she looks at me now. The sparkle has dimmed. “Martini, please. Extra dirty.”
She doesn’t even say that last part in a flirtatious tone.
I dip my chin, sliding out from the booth.
“Thanks, Boss,” Forker says, turning back to his sister.
I approach the bar, immediately being met by familiar faces.
Penny’s eyes widen. She frantically waves the bartender over.
I take one look at the scene at the end of that bar and bite back a groan.
There are full tequila shots littering the space in front of her, begging to be tossed back.
One for each of the bridesmaids and one for the bride.
There is no way I’m getting out of here without joining them. I can see it in her eyes.
Fine. For the bride, I guess.
I make my way toward them, shooting Penny a look of warning. Her smile grows, those dark blue eyes a bit more glassy than usual. She leans toward me, smacking her hand on my shoulder.
“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favourite groomsman?”
I scoff. “Above Caulfield? Doubtful.”
“Right now, yes,” she says definitively. “He’s not currently doing a shot with me.”
“Don’t let Carter hear that.” Arden snickers beside her. “He might cry.”
I chuckle, knowing she’s right. Carter and Penny have a better relationship than she has with me.
They’re closer. But it's not surprising. Most people are closer with others than they are with me. I’m a closed book.
I don’t give much, so I don’t get much. Saltzy might think he’s the robotic one, but I often wonder if it’s me.
The bartender drops the extra tequila shot and I grab his attention. “Put those on my tab, please. And can I grab a martini? Extra dirty.”
I pick up my shot glass. The girls are chatting, but Arden Doll’s eyes are glued to my face. She angles her head when I meet her gaze, leaning against the bar on her elbows. Her red hair falls into the mixture of spilled liquid on the surface.
“Extra dirty martini?” she asks, cocking a brow.
I meet her eyes and open my mouth, but her head whips toward the booths before I can say anything. She narrows her gaze, trying to see through the dim lights and all the bodies.
“She’s here,” I confirm, and her eyes widen, a smile blossoming on her mouth. “I’d go rescue her if I were you. Forker is interrogating her in front of the boys. She looks like she would rather die than be in that booth.”
“I’m on it,” she confirms, “but, shots first. Ladies! Let’s do this before I chicken out.”
“And Boston!” Penny shouts.
And for some reason, even though we’re here to celebrate Penny and Declan, the toast I do with these five girls is not related to Penny at all.
No, in unison, they all chant the same damn thing.
“And Boston!”