3. Wait for It…
”YOU DOING OKAY?” Christian invades the quiet corner I’ve been sulking in, undaunted by the scowl on my face.
Family dinner isn’t at the top of the list of places I want to be tonight, but I couldn’t come up with a way to get out of it. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I wanted to see how Piper would handle crossing paths with me now that I’ve gone and fucked everything up.
”I”m fine.” The lie is clipped and sharp. A not-so-subtle hint he should leave me alone. I’m not in the mood for company, especially his. I want to wallow alone in my disappointment and misery.
Christian takes a drink from the bottle of beer clutched in his hand, looking unbothered by my shitty attitude. ”That”s good, because I need you to come to my place after dinner. Myra finally heard from her friends.”
I drag my attention from the place it’s rested all night, putting my eyes on the man beside me instead of the woman I can’t seem to leave alone. ”When?”
”Earlier today.” Christian keeps his voice low. Even though the men we call our brothers now know what we do in our free time, there are still plenty of other people in this house who don”t need to be reminded of the bullshit that goes on in the world. “We should come up with some sort of a game plan tonight. So we’re ready to go as soon as the opportunity arises. I want to get this over and done with so we can put it behind us.” Christian’s gaze lingers on where his girlfriend Lydia stands with Jill and Piper at the kitchen island. As if she can feel the weight of his stare, Lydia”s eyes move toward us, and she gives Christian a soft, sweet smile.
In almost the same breath, Piper’s head snaps my direction, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring as her lips purse, giving me a look that could kill. I snort at the stark and predictable difference in their reactions, a reflection of who each woman is at her core. Lydia is sweet and soft and gentle. Piper is...
A fucking tornado.
And if I’m not careful, she’ll tear my whole life apart.
Forcing my eyes from her yet again, I nudge Christian with one elbow. ”Go to your girl. I”ve got shit to do at home. Let me know when you’re ready.” I stand before he can argue—and I know he will. Christian will want me to stay. He’ll want me to spend the night surrounded by people instead of alone, but I can”t.
For a multitude of reasons.
No one notices as I slip out the front door, quietly making my way across the street to my house. The outside of it is just as overgrown and dilapidated looking as Christian’s used to be. The front yard is nothing but overgrown weeds and a sidewalk that’s only half visible thanks to the dirt taking it over. The cement stairs leading to the front door are cracked and crumbling, the brick red paint slathered on them back when it served as a low-rent industrial space so chipped it’s barely visible.
And the inside looks even worse.
Considering how long I”ve lived here, I should be embarrassed about the state of my home. But I can’t bring myself to do what I’d need to do in order to get it where it should be. Maybe one day I’ll get there.
I stayed at the shop late, spending an hour cleaning out the breakroom fridge and mopping the floors in a subpar form of penance, so the first thing I do when I let myself in is go straight upstairs to take the shower I skipped. As much as I didn’t want to go to family dinner, I wanted to be late even less. I didn’t want to face the disappointed look Jill would give me, making me feel like a complete ass.
Little would she know how deserving I am of it.
After peeling off my clothes and dropping them into the hamper, I step under the hot spray, washing away not only the grime of the day, but also the delicate scent of Piper’s skin. Every time I moved, the hint of vanilla and cherry wafted around me. Every breath I took was permeated by her. It was fucking maddening. Tortured me all afternoon. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of it. I washed my hands, scrubbing up to my elbows. I brushed my teeth. I even went so far as to change my shirt, but nothing worked. Almost like the universe wanted to taunt me. To constantly remind me of how badly I fucked up.
After scrubbing down, I grab a towel, drying off as I leave my mostly finished master bathroom and head into my bare-bones bedroom. I’ve swept the subfloor enough times it’s grit and dust free, but the chipped surface is still rough on my soles. Reaching what will someday be a walk-in closet, I dig through the neat piles of clothing stacked against the walls. Letting the towel drop, I pull on a fresh pair of boxer briefs, well-worn jeans, and a T-shirt. After hanging my towel over the bathroom doorknob to dry—since I’ve never bought towel racks—I go back downstairs, headed for the rooms at the back of the house.
I”m not sure anyone else would recognize them as a family room and kitchen, but they function well enough for me. I have a refrigerator. A sink with hot and cold water. A microwave and coffee maker along with a few other countertop appliances. Considering most of my meals are either eaten at work or leftovers sent home with me from work, it”s been easy to continue dragging my feet on the remodel that should have been done years ago.
Perusing the fridge, I settle on a beer and a container of some sort of pasta thing Nancy made a few days ago and sent home with me. After cracking the lid on my dinner, I slide it in the microwave, popping the lid off my beer as I wait for it to heat.
Initially, I planned to eat across the street, but I couldn’t stick it out. Not with Piper shooting daggers at my face while all my brothers doted on their wives and children, reminding me of what I don”t have.
And might never get.
The microwave beeps and I pull out the food, stirring it around before shoving a forkful in my mouth. It”s barely lukewarm, but—like so much else—that doesn”t really matter. Juggling the pasta and my beer, I make a beeline for the reclining sofa situated in what might someday be a family room. For now it’s nothing more than studs and a dangling lightbulb with sheets covering the large windows. Flopping down, I switch on the television balanced on an old coffee table, and crank up my footrest.
I don”t even know what I”m watching, because I”m sure as fuck not seeing it as I continue inhaling my food, caught somewhere between dread and excitement about what’s coming.
What Christian, Simon, and I have been doing has given me purpose. Made me see myself as something other than what I was for so long. What I expected myself to someday be. I need to go save Myra”s friends, if for no other reason than to get that feeling back. Because I’m starting to think I might be a piece of shit.
Specifically, a piece of shit who fucks his employees.
I”m just finishing my food when my cell dings, letting me know Christian’s home and ready. I flip down the footrest and stand, refusing to drag my feet. The reminder of what I”ve done is about to stare me down again, but so is the reminder of what I”ve tried so hard to be.
Hopefully they even each other out.
When I get to Christian’s back door, Simon is jogging up, brows lifted in question. ”Do you know what this is about?”
”Only that Myra heard from her friends today.” Using the keypad, we let ourselves in the back door and walk through the house together without saying another word. Simon”s usually a little more chatty than this, but I”m not sure I could stand having to carry on a bullshit conversation, so I”m grateful for whatever”s got him in the same mood I”m in.
All eyes come our way as we walk into the office. Lydia”s in the chair behind Christian’s desk with him perched on the edge right next to her. Myra is seated on the leather sofa and Piper stands near the window, arms crossed, her narrowed gaze fixed right on me.
I glance down at her foot, unable to stop myself. She was sitting at the island at family dinner so I couldn’t easily get a look at her lower legs. The walking cast she”s been sporting for the past few weeks is gone, but the lower half of her left limb isn’t bare like I expected. I know she was hoping she”d be done with wearing shit on her foot after today, so I”m sure the large, unsightly brace strapped in place has her spitting mad.
And for some reason that soothes me. A pissed Piper is a familiar thing. An appealing thing. One I know how to deal with.
Propping myself against the wall farthest from her, I try to look more relaxed than I feel as I put my attention on Christian. “What have we heard?”
“They’re ready.” Lydia’s the one who answers, and I can almost feel the happiness radiating off her. She’s like the fucking sun sometimes, and it can be a little blinding for someone like me.
Someone who’s spent too much time in the dark.
“The women have found a place to go and want our help getting there.” Christian’s tone is clipped. Almost like he expects one of us to argue with this new development.
“Really.” Simon angles one brow. “All five of them want to go to the same place?”
“Seven.” Lydia’s voice steals my attention.
“Seven, what?” I’m trying to keep up, but the surprise that all the women plan to go to the same place has me falling behind.
“There’s not five. There’s seven.” Lydia lifts her chin, staring me down like she thinks I’m going to argue over the addition. “One of the women has two little girls she’s bringing with her.”
“How’s that going to work?” Simon hesitates, likely knowing his next observation isn’t going to go over well. “Won’t her husband file kidnapping charges?”
“Her husband was one of the men they arrested.” The chill in Piper’s tone is almost as icy as the glare on her face. At least this time it’s not for me. “No one’s bailing him out because they know he’ll end up dead.”
“She wants to file for divorce, but his parents are watching her like a hawk.” Myra’s voice is quiet as she offers up her first contribution. “She has to be careful or she’ll never get her girls out.”
I glance at Simon, before turning back to Lydia. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to go get them.” She chews her lower lip, looking a little uncertain as her eyes dart from me to Piper. “Remember our initial plan when we went to get Myra?”
I go still, eyes dragging to the wall across from me. Piper wiggles one finger at me in a little wave. “Hey, husband.”
”LYDIA THINKS WE can just jump now that Myra’s friends got the last passport they were waiting on.” Christian now fills the chair behind his desk. Lydia, Piper, and Myra filed out a few minutes ago, leaving us to make plans for an upcoming show at The Cellar. I doubt we make it that far. “I don’t know how to tell them we can’t just roll up and take seven people.” He blows out a breath. “Two, maybe. Not seven.”
Orchestrating the rescue of a group of women from the small town in Arkansas where Christian, Lydia, and Myra grew up has turned out to be a much larger undertaking than any of us expected. Not only do we have to find a time and a place to get them out, but we discovered the place they plan to go is in Canada. That means we also have to make sure the whole group will be able to cross the border, including the little girls.
Christian and I offered them jobs and help finding places to stay here in Memphis, but they want to put as much distance between themselves and the men who”ve ruled their lives as possible. I can’t blame them, but it makes everything a hell of a lot more difficult.
As do the passports.
”They need to keep all their documents somewhere safe. If anyone sees them—”
Christian shakes his head, cutting me off. ”We”ve got a contact in the next town over who’s picking them up tomorrow and mailing everything here to my place so no one has to worry about someone seeing them and figuring out what”s going on.”
I snort, wishing I wasn”t still bitter after all these years. ”Great. Then we only have five hundred other fucking things to worry about going wrong while we wait.” The waiting is the part that kills me. Always has.
Always will.
Waiting leaves time for shit to go sideways. Gives minds time to change. And while I’m all for these women being able to make their own choices, I can’t pretend I don’t have an opinion on the ones they should make.
”I know it”s hard, but we”re not just dealing with adults on this one.” Christian holds my gaze, stare unwavering as his voice lowers even further. ”We’re dealing with kids this time. We’ve got to take extra precautions.”
I rake one hand through my hair, trying to find it in me to chill the fuck out. ”I fucking hate this.”
Christian nods, his face filled with an amount of empathy only someone who knows where I’m coming from could offer. ”I know, but we’ve got to make sure we can get those girls across the border. If we can”t—”
”I already know what happens if we can”t.” I tip back what”s left of the gin and tonic in my glass, not even bothering to roll it around my mouth to enjoy the bite of juniper. Tonight I”m more interested in letting the alcohol sink its teeth into me. I need it to temper the anger I can never seem to shake.
Christian’s gaze follows my movement, pausing on the drink I downed in only a few swallows. ”Think you can handle Piper?”
I almost laugh, because handling Piper isn’t what I’m worried about. She seems to be doing just fucking fine. Outside of the occasional glare she shot my way, she barely even seemed to notice my existence.
Which is complete bullshit, considering she came on my cock three times a few hours ago.
”Whatever it takes to get them out.” My already dark mood turns black and I stand from my spot on the couch next to Simon. ”I”ll see you later. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
Christian smirks at me, making a show of looking at his watch. ”It is almost your bedtime, isn”t it?”
I give him the finger instead of responding, carrying my tumbler to the kitchen and racking it in the dishwasher before silently slipping out the back door and into the night. My house is directly next door to Christian’s, our yards connected, so I cut across the small expanse of grass and take the steps leading into my own back door two at a time.
There”s no missing the difference between his home and mine as I step in the door. Even if you had your eyes closed, you would still feel the shift. Christian’s place feels warm and inviting. Comfortable and homey. My house feels empty. Silent. Cold and almost sterile. It would be jarring if I wasn’t so used to it.
After dropping my keys onto the hunk of plywood serving as a counter, I kick off my boots. The floors might not be finished in any civilized sort of way, but I keep them clean. That goes for the rest of the place too. I know it’s shitty by most people’s standards, but this is the nicest place I”ve ever lived. Maybe that”s why I haven”t pushed to finish it. Sometimes it”s easier to stick with what you know.
Or maybe it”s just what I deserve. Maybe everyone else around me is getting what I want because they”ve earned it. Proved they deserve it. And I haven”t.
Today sure as hell makes it seem like that”s a reasonable possibility.
I open the fridge, pulling out another beer as I make my way to the front of the large building I bought back when I thought everything was changing for the better. When I was sure the things I”d wanted my whole life were within my reach.
Yet here I sit. As alone as I”ve ever been.
I”m halfway up the stairs when someone knocks on my front door. I pause because the only people who come here use the back. Even if Christian or Simon did decide to use the front, they both know when I go to bed and that there’ll be hell to pay if they fuck with my schedule.
That means it might be someone I don’t know standing on my porch, reminding me I need to install the security system that’s been sitting in the middle of my future dining room for two years.
I silently pad back down the stairs, grateful I didn”t turn on any lights so I can use the darkness to my advantage. When I reach the solid plane of the door, I pause, listening for any hint of who’s on the other side. Cursing myself for not replacing the bulb on my porch so I could see more clearly, I set down my beer. After rolling my shoulders and testing my fists, I fling the door open, planning to use the element of surprise against whoever”s staring back at me.
But the eyes on mine aren”t wide and filled with shock. They’re narrowed just like they always are when they”re directed my way.
Piper looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on the beer set at my feet before settling on my face. ”We need to talk.”
Before I have a chance to respond, she’s shouldering past me, pushing her way into my house.