Chapter Five
KINGSTON
"Stop," I demanded, pausing while Padfoot took a long sniff of a lamppost.
"Stop what? I'm not doing anything," Scotti declared, voice hitched up an octave like it always did even when she was young when accused of something she was totally guilty of, but didn't want to admit to.
"You're staring at me."
"Arrogant, much?" she asked, her whole body jolting when Hannibal sprang into a trot. No one would ever accuse him of being a well-mannered dog. Which was likely what Peyton loved most about him.
"Switch," I offered, pressing Paddy's leash into her hand as I reached for Hannibal's lead, giving him a little tug to get him back to my side.
"Say it," I told her, wanting to get it over with.
I'd already gotten it from Nixon and Rush.
I was sure to get it from Atlas when he resurfaced.
And then all of the Mallicks once this trickled back.
Which I had no doubt that it would even if I asked Scotti to keep it between us.
Things weren't like they had once been, she had mixed loyalties now.
To us, to the family we had always been, but also to her husband Mark, and his family, the Mallicks.
She wouldn't keep this from him. And he wouldn't keep it from them.
"So, Savvy, huh?" she asked, piercing me with eyes so much like mine, like our brothers', like our mother.
"No, not Savvs, huh, kid," I told her, even though I knew at this point that was the closest thing I had ever come to lying to my sister.
I would never claim to have been the best parental figure in the world, but I always prided myself in my honesty with her.
Life had forced her to grow up fast. I had treated her like the mini adult she had been.
But there was something to her thinking there was something going on with Savea and me.
Because, well, if she didn't show up, I had a feeling there would have been no stopping back in my office.
A kiss would turn into clothes coming off, to us breaking in my desk for the first time.
Atlas had told me that it would have been number one on his priority list after getting the place finished—to find a girl and christen the desk.
Which really spoke heavily toward his priorities opposed to mine as I spent the next few weeks frantically trying to find some work, build my client base up.
Not that I blamed him.
So much of our lives had been focused on one goal.
Revenge.
It left time for little else.
It didn't give us the ample free time he now had.
And, of course, we were all making up for lost time in our own ways.
Me with trying to get a legitimate place up and running, trying to make a real name for myself, erase the past, put down roots for the future.
And Atlas, well, he was chasing all the skirts he never had the time to before.
Hardly anyone would blame him. Though all the women in his life—our sister included—had started to get on his case about getting a little more serious about life, finding a woman who lasted more than a night or two or—on the rare chance of pulling a weekender—three nights.
But he showed no signs of changing.
I hadn't either. My workaholic ways were known far and wide.
The girls got on me about not working myself to death, about enjoying life, about finding a woman, having the kids they all knew I longed for even if I never said so myself—a part of me believing it was simply too late.
I had waited too long. It wasn't in the cards for me.
But then fate tossed someone into my life, threw her not only into my work—where many women had been before—but into my apartment, into my life, into my goddamn bed.
It was a miracle I had been able to get to sleep the night before.
Her smell was everywhere. Well, more accurately, my smell was all over her.
Which, arguably, might have been even more intoxicating than the scent of a woman's personal products.
It was more intimate, having me all over her.
Her hair splayed all over the pillows—pure inky silk, close enough to touch, occasionally brushing against my arm as she tossed to find a new position.
And, heaven fucking help me, she made this cute as hell, unexpected whimpering noise as she fell asleep.
The sexual tension was enough to keep me up and down all night.
The blankets felt hot, oppressive. Even my subconscious seemed unnaturally attune to every move she made.
Finally, I had needed to crawl out of the bed early after only a few stolen, broken hours.
Padfoot had happily occupied my vacant space, backing his traitorous ass up into her until she, completely out, curled into him. Spooned him.
And me?
I was fucking jealous of my dog.
The day had been full of work. Both on her case and another.
Well, it was supposed to be a full day of work.
But my focus was shit. My mind kept circling back to her.
Wondering what she was doing. Hoping she was getting on with Rush.
But not on too well. I pictured her playing tug with Padfoot, making coffee barefoot in my kitchen, curled up on the couch watching TV, maybe catching a nap, relaxing like she hadn't been able to do much at all in her life.
And I found that with each of those thoughts, a warmness swirled around my stomach, an odd expanding sensation gripped my chest.
"Ouch," Scotti said, pressing a hand to her chest, rubbing the spot just under her collarbone.
"What?" I asked, body stiffening.
"You just lied to me. Lied. My big, moral, honest brother just lied right to my face. It hurts," she told me, shooting doe eyes at me.
"Scotti..."
"Don't Scotti me with the sad voice now that you're feeling guilty," she demanded as we took a turn down a side street, both dogs perking up, tails waggling, knowing we were almost at a small, secluded park with a little walking trail through the woods where they could smell all the local wildlife.
Sometimes, when I knew no one was around to be pissed about letting him off-leash, I would let Padfoot jump around in the stream, always coming out a bright orange color from the clay along the banks, panting, exhausted, but happy.
"It's not a lie. Just not the whole truth, I guess," I admitted, shaking my head, unable to look her in the eye.
"Her lips look thoroughly kissed when I came in."
Thoughts of the actions that led her lips to looking swollen, red, and over-sensitive shot through my head. It took actual focus to try to push them away. Knowing there was a time and place to replay those kinds of things. And dog walking with your baby sister was not one of them.
"Good eyes."
"And you want to say there's no Savvs, huh in your life?"
"It just happened. It's not like we're having some clandestine affair under all your noses for days. It literally just happened."
"But she's been staying with you, right?"
"Right. It's not safe for her to go home."
"I didn't have you pegged for a lover of damsels in distress.
I mean, don't get me wrong, you have what it takes to be a White Knight.
You make a living doing it. But I figured that seeing all those damsels in your office all the time would have kind of turned you off to them in your personal life.
You know, that work/life balance thing."
"Savvy isn't a damsel in distress."
"I mean, but she is. You are literally protecting her with your life, trying to find the bad guys who want to do her harm. It's textbook."
"I mean, she's not just that, Scotti."
"Right. She's the steady, always in your periphery Savvy who you never gave any attention to, never whisked away to a corner to puff up her lips in all the Sundays, all the holidays, all the times she had been around you.
She's always been there. And you've never made a move.
Until she showed up, what, crying and shaking?
" she asked, face scrunching up, voice getting venomous.
"Please dispute this, King, because I'm really not liking thinking of you this way. "
Scotti was a woman you would never accuse of being in distress, of needing to be rescued.
And she hated the idea of a man being drawn to a woman simply because she was having a weak moment in a life otherwise filled with self-sufficiency and strength.
She thought it said a lot of him and nothing at all about her.
And, what's more, she wasn't wrong in that.
"You're wrong in thinking Savea had been in my periphery.
Or background noise in my life. Trust me, kid, I have been acutely aware of her presence at every one of those Sunday dinners.
Seeing her in that red dress last Christmas was like a punch to the gut.
Watching her drop down on the floor and play with the dogs or one of the kids has never been something I barely noticed. I noticed. I always noticed her."
"And yet?" she prompted as Padfoot started leaping up in the air as we turned into the heavily wooded path.
"And yet... a lot of things."
"Such as?"
"Such as I'm a lot older than her."
"Okay. So what? She's an adult, King. It's not like it's creepy or anything."
"She's Peyton's best friend."
"And need I remind you—Peyton is not related to us."
A snort escaped me at that. "I'm aware of that."
"And you're not an asshole," she added.
"Come again?"
"I mean, I could understand if you were a dick. Someone who just wanted to take Savvs for a ride, then kick her aside, never to think of her again. I could get you staying away from her if those were your intentions. But that's not you."