Chapter 13
Toby’s dream of flying over the harbour bridge was interrupted by the doorbell brrringing its way into his ears. Groaning, he checked his phone and saw it was two in the morning. Tabby had left an hour ago but hadn’t sent any texts saying she’d forgotten something or wanted another turn.
The doorbell brrringed again, and Mopsy gave a half-hearted bark before returning her head to her paws. Toby rubbed her lower back. “Good job, Mops. Don’t worry, I’ll go find out who it is.”
He pulled on tracksuit pants and headed for the first set of stairs, his eyes aching. Why the fuck had he bought a house with three storeys? And why the hell had he chosen a bedroom on the top floor? He began his descent, still checking his phone for why someone was ringing his door this late on a Wednesday night. He didn’t have any messages from his mates or Maisy, and he hadn’t met his neighbours, so it was anyone’s guess.
It was probably Tabby. She hadn’t stayed over, claiming a 6 a.m. Pilates class, but maybe it got cancelled? Or maybe she just couldn’t keep her hands off him. Toby grinned, bouncing down the stairs a little faster.
She’d put on a fuck of a show earlier, riding his cock while he lay on his back, scrolling Instagram like an asshole.
“Toby,” she’d whined. “Please fuck me back? Please, at least look at me?”
It had taken all his control not to do precisely what she asked. She’d been wearing his latest present; a pale pink bodysuit with a slit between the legs. It fit like a dream, and as her dark hair fell into her eyes and her tight cunt slid up and down his dick, he’d struggled to keep his voice steady. “I’m good, sweetness. You just bounce that pussy for a while. I’ll tell you when I’m gonna come.”
Instead, he’d let her grind her way to an orgasm before yawning and directing her mouth to his balls. He’d jerked off for a while, and even as he watched cricket highlights on his phone, he’d had to go extra light so he didn’t nut in her hair. When she was moaning and whining and waving her ass around, and he really couldn’t take it anymore, he’d tossed his phone aside and thrown her on her back.
“Yes,” Tabby had breathed. “Finally.”
“Not quite, sweetness.”
Keeping her trapped beneath him, he’d ridden her so slow she’d started bucking in protest. Laughing, he’d pinned her wrists, bearing down and shoving barely an inch in and out of her.
“Toby!” she’d wailed, twisting her hips and trying to fuck him faster.
“Beg for it,” he’d said. “Tell me how much you need dick.”
She’d done it a dozen times before he eased up, giving her just enough room to drive herself crazy. She’d pushed up against him, practically sobbing, and right when he was thinking he should probably give her a break, she’d licked the side of his neck. That one sensation, Tabby’s soft tongue trailing over his stubble, had robbed him of his control. He’d slammed furiously inside her, trying to pound out the urgent feeling that rose in him like a titan to battle. They”d come together in less than a minute, but Toby hadn’t been done.
He hadn’t just stayed hard post-orgasm; he’d been right on the tail of a second climax. He kept pumping, and Tabby started thrashing around, begging him to stop.
“No,” he’d said through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna have to take it. You can’t get me out of you, can you?”
She’d shaken her head, blood rushing to her cheeks.
“So, it’s not gonna stop. Not ’til I’m done.”
He’d driven into her in hard, short thrusts that rammed her ass into his mattress.
Tabby had wailed, tits mashed to his chest as he tore cry after ecstatic cry from her mouth, and then he’d freed her wrists so she could bury her nails in his back. She liked doing that, and he liked feeling it. As soon as those sharp points bit into him, he let go a second time, flooding her pussy with more cum than seemed possible. He’d been emptying buckets lately, probably his body’s way of trying to get as much of himself inside the woman of his dreams.
The doorbell brrringed yet again, and Toby smirked as he descended the final staircase. It was definitely Tabby. As he crossed the foyer, he debated pulling his tracksuit pants down and answering the door, but on the off chance she just wanted to talk, it was probably better not to be buck-naked.
They’d been talking a lot lately. Usually after sex, but sometimes even before. He knew about Nicole’s pregnancy and Sam and Scott’s plans to travel the world. He hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her about being his girlfriend, but it was only a matter of time. She’d broken from coming back to his place; maybe this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Maybe once they’d done whatever she’d come here to do, he could say, “I want you to meet my friends. Can I tell them we’re dating, or what?”
“Hey,” he called, flipping open the security latch. “Back for more I s?—”
There was no Tabby. A hulking man stood on his doorstep, so huge the front yard was barely visible behind him. Backlit by porch lights, Toby couldn’t see his face. He slammed the door on instinct, and it bounced off an immovable object. Looking down, he saw a boot inside the frame.
“Surprised you don’t remember that one,” the man growled, and Toby realised who it was. Noah Newcomb, Nicole’s husband and the closest thing Tabby had to a big brother. “Noah, mate? What are you?—”
“Can I come in?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, barrelling forward and almost knocking Toby over.
He hadn’t seen Noah in two years, and he’d forgotten how massive the guy was. Six-four and tattooed from neck to toe, he made the hardest guy at Toby’s gym look like a kindergartener. And it wasn’t a front. Noah was an ex-biker, the son of a chapter president, and he’d done hard time for assault.
When he’d helped Noah confront a guy stealing from Silver Daughters a few years ago, Toby had seen up close what the man was capable of. He, Noah, and Scott had barged into the tattooist’s house the same way Noah had just barged into his, demanding explanations and repayment. It hadn’t gotten violent, but if it had, Toby knew Noah would have torn Gil limb from limb.
He was brutally loyal to the DaSilva family, and while Toby had once considered him a friend, there weren’t too many friendly reasons why Noah would be illegally entering his house at two in the morning, stinking of Irish whiskey.
“Noah,” he repeated. “What’s happening? Is everything okay?”
His uninvited guest was in no hurry to respond; he paced to the nearest wall and examined the Alexander Marquis painting Maisy had hung there.
“Very nice,” he said in a voice as low as it was petrifying. “Done well for yourself, haven’t you?”
Toby’s gut thrummed. He drew himself up to his full height, wishing he’d put on shoes or a shirt or had a crowbar nearby. “Do we have a problem?”
Noah laughed, a soft, menacing sound that did nothing to ease Toby’s nerves.
“You might have a problem.”
“And that is?”
Noah crossed the hall to study the Nadine Faraj watercolour. “I dunno. Been doing anything stupid, Tobes?”
Cold panic flooded his chest, and he wanted to shout that he had no fucking clue what Noah was talking about, but he also remembered the ride to Gil’s place; Noah telling him and Scott to keep quiet as much as possible. As Toby had seen it, the implication had been that talking too much weakened your position. He kept his mouth shut.
“You gonna answer my question?” Noah asked.
Again, he stayed quiet.
Noah’s grin became sharklike. “Always were a quick study, weren’t you? But shutting up isn’t gonna help you here. So why don’t you tell me why you think I’m paying you a visit?”
Toby remembered the afternoon he’d accidentally overheard Noah on the phone to Edgar DaSilva. A faint bubble of hope swelled in his chest. Maybe this was about Edgar? “Tabby’s dad?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
Noah swelled before his eyes, his expression somehow growing colder. “No. And since you’re fucking about, I’ll ask you another question. How’d you end up losing it? You pay someone or what?”
All the air rushed from Toby’s lungs. This had to be about Tabby. Noah knew they were screwing. Had she told him, or did he figure it out? “You… what?”
“Nice try.” Noah moved closer, his long legs swinging in a parody of a careless stroll. “Doubt Tabby was the first, but then you probably wanted to get some practice in before you took a run at her, huh?”
Toby rubbed his elbow, his palm rasping over dry skin. “I don’t... how is that any of your business?”
Noah paused, mid-stride, one boot hovering. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said automatically. “I don’t know.”
“Thought so.” Noah slowly lowered his boot to the marble, toe to heel. “How long’ve you been fucking Tabby?”
Again, he considered keeping quiet, but clearly that would only piss Noah off more. Not only was Noah drunk and fuming, Toby used to buy the guy beers to get him to talk about biker shit. Noah had once been a dead-to-rights enforcer. He’d broken a guy’s fingers to get him to talk. Held him in place as he howled in agony, then kept right on going. Toby might have put on muscle and done a little MMA, but he didn’t have a prayer if it came to blows. He’d need to talk his way out of this—a prospect as reassuring as a paper shield.
“I-we’ve been hooking up for a while,” he told Noah. “But whatever you’re mad about, it’s not a thing. Me and Tabby are… we’re actually…”
Noah’s fake smile slid off his face. “Spit it out.”
“We’re together,” he managed. “We-we’re into each other. Whatever you think’s wrong, it isn’t. It’s all good.”
“Really?” Noah plucked a brass lion statue from a side table and tossed it from hand to tattooed hand. “Are you sure?”
Toby wondered how much the lion weighed and if it was hard enough to smash through his forehead. “Yeah, I mean, as far as I know.”
“As far as you know…” Noah chuckled. “Did you know that Tabby’s got bruises all over her? Has for weeks? Or ‘a while’ as you might say?”
Toby’s heart surged into his mouth. “Mate, it isn’t like tha?—”
“What’s it like?” Noah tossed the brass lion back and forth, back and forth. “Because I followed her here tonight, and she looked fucking stressed. Miserable. And you haven’t been coming around, making good with her sisters and acting like this isn’t some dirty fucking secret. So go on, tell me why she’s all marked up?”
Good sense stopped Toby from saying that Tabby was into rough sex. That lately, she’d been begging him to go harder and harder. “It’s consensual.”
“Right.” Noah let the lion roll out of his hand, and it thunked onto the marble tiling. “Sorry about that.”
Toby gritted his teeth. “I get that you’re worried about her, but I’d never hurt her like that.”
“And yet, the bruises…”
Noah stepped around the lion and walked toward him. The urge to stumble backward and concede ground was strong, but there was also anger flicking in Toby like a pilot light. His dad had talked to him like this when he was a kid; in irritating circular conversations designed only to embarrass him before the sword fell, and he’d either hit him or send him to his room to fast and think about Jesus. It had been years since he’d been stuck in one of these cycles, and his ego was howling in indignation.
He thought of Tabby: her laugh, her smile, the feel of her in his arms.
Stop, he told himself. De-escalate.
Lifting his chin, he held Noah’s murderous gaze. “It’s games. We’re both into it. And if you don’t believe me, ask Tabby.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. They were red-rimmed and circled in black shadow. Was it the booze, or had Noah been?—
As though sensing his thoughts, the big man turned, striding back to where the brass lion lay. “I’m tired of looking at your goofy fucking face, so I’m gonna wrap this up,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ve got history, which is the only reason you’ll be able to walk tomorrow, but come near Tabby again, and I’ll break your fucking legs.”
Toby stared at Noah as he bent to pick up the lion. “You want me to stay away from Tabby?”
“I take back what I said about you being a quick study.” Noah returned the brass lion to the side table with a thunk. “Yes, that’s what I want. No calls. No texts. Nothing. As far as she knows, you fell off the face of the fucking earth the way you did when you were supposed to be her friend.”
Toby’s stomach turned over. “Tabby and I?—”
“Were friends, then you fucked off.” Noah advanced on him again. “Do you even know what’s been happening in her life? How she’s been doing?”
“I—”
“Of course you don’t. You’re too busy getting your sweaty little palms all over her, just like you always wanted.”
There was a wooshing sound in Toby’s ears, the sense of falling through the floor and into different dimensions. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I know who you are, and I know what you’re like.”
Toby couldn’t help but step backward. “I don’t?—”
Noah moved in closer, his green-red eyes glowing like a nuclear reactor.
“I know. Who. You. Are,” he repeated. “I know you were a fuckless wonder who had a thing for Tabby. I know you used to follow her around with your tongue hanging out, praying she’d see you as anything other than a guy who bored the shit out of her.” He pressed a blunt fingertip to Toby’s chest. “I know you got fed up waiting and decided to change tact. I know you went and got yourself rich somehow, found a few girls willing to fuck you so you wouldn’t have virgin stink all over you when you started sniffing around Tabby again. And until I came here, I had no idea how you got her to give you the time of day, seeing as she fuckin’ hated you, but…”
Noah’s hand closed over his right bicep, gripping it and turning it to the side. “…you called her and said you wanted a tat and only her shit would do, right? Wouldn’t take no for an answer?”
Toby’s vision swam. “Noah…”
But the man seemed not to hear him as he inspected Tabby’s stag. “It’s good work, but I doubt you give a fuck. How much did you pay to get her to do it off the books? She probably thought you were trying to avoid Scott, but you just wanted her here, didn’t you? Bed nearby, nice and cosy. Show her what a successful little boy you’d become?”
“No,” Toby said, shaking his arm loose. “I would have been happy to come into the studio. Tabby wanted to do it here.”
Noah’s face split into the ugliest smile he’d ever seen. “Bullshit.”
“I’m not a fucking supervillain! You’re right about me liking her, and I did want to see her again, and that’s why I asked her to give me a tattoo?—”
“So, you did pay her to see you again?” Noah regripped Toby’s arm and shook it. “You got her into your house, listened to her talk, gave her your phony fucking shoulder to cry on and then you had it. The most popular girl in school sucking on your dick, just like you always wanted.”
Toby wrenched his arm free, his teeth bared. “Fuck off, Noah. Fuck off and get out of my fucking house.”
“I don’t think I will.” Noah loomed closer. “I’ve seen the boxes coming to the studio. You’re the one buying her shit, right? Clothes. A new phone.” His lip curled. “A fuckin’ maid costume?”
Toby’s vision swam, and for a second, he was sure he would pass out. “I... they’re just presents. Stuff I thought she’d like.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me. Think you’re a big man? Throwing money at a girl having a shit time so you can finally fuck her? Dressing her up and parading her around so people think you’re not a complete fucking loser? Thinking eventually she’ll owe you enough to put up with you long term? You’re fucking pathetic.”
The blood drained from Toby’s face. It had felt so charming and fun to buy Tabby nice things. To give her the Cinderella treatment. But coming out of Noah’s mouth, it sounded like the sleaziest shit on earth.
“I didn’t…” he attempted. “I wasn’t trying to?—”
“Was it your idea to dye her hair brown?” Noah interrupted. “Do her nails again? Get those fucking fake eyelashes?”
“No, I just?—”
“She wasn’t enough of a fantasy fuckdoll for you? You wanted more?”
“No!”
“Yes.” Noah’s nose was an inch from his. “Your fingerprints are all over that girl. Literally. And if her sisters weren’t so fucked up, they’d have seen it too.”
“What’s wrong with Sam and Ni?—”
“We’re talking about you, cuntrag. I’ll ask again: Do you think you’re a big man? Taking advantage of a girl in a bad place? Giving it to her rough and letting her do self-harm by proxy because it makes your dick hard?”
“Self-harm?” Toby repeated. “How?—”
“Her fucking mother,” Noah spat. “She’s back in town and basically stalking Tabs, but I bet you know all about that, huh? Been comforting her between shoving your dick inside her, haven’t you?”
Toby couldn’t have been more shocked if Noah had punched him in the teeth. “What are you fucking talking about?”
Noah bent down, his breath sour with beer and old cigarettes. “Deny it again. I fucking dare you.”
The threat hovered like an air force drone above enemy land, threatening to strike at the slightest provocation. Toby shook his head, unwilling to talk but utterly confused. Tabby’s mum hadn’t been around her entire life. As far as he knew, she hadn’t seen her since childhood. Then he remembered their conversation in bed a few nights ago. He’d told Tabby about his parents not responding to his most recent email, and she’d let out the most resounding sigh he”d ever heard and said, “You’d think at least one of us would have normal parents.”
“Who’s the ‘one of us?’” he’d asked.
“Us,” Tabby gestured between their bodies. “You, me, Noah’s parents, Scott’s dad, my mum and dad…”
“Your dad’s great. At least from what I’ve heard?”
“He is. But I miss him. I want him to come home. Sometimes, I wish he had just worked in an office, and he and my mum were still married, and she baked bread and rocked the karaoke machine after too many daiquiris. Normal shit, you know?”
“I know,” he’d said, pulling her into his arms. “We can do karaoke if you want?”
She’d snorted. “No thanks, mate. I heard you sing when you and Scott started the world’s worst soft rock band. My ears have never been the same.”
They’d laughed and laid entwined together debating new band names, and Toby had felt flattered she’d looped him in with the rest of the Silver Daughters gang as having shitty parents. But now the fact Tabby had mentioned her mother at all stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Tabby’s mum’s here? In Melbourne?”
Noah’s forehead furrowed. “You didn’t…?”
“No.”
For a second, the tension faded, and it was almost like they were mates again. Then Noah grabbed him by the collarbone tight enough to hurt. “I’ve said all I came to fucking say. Go stick your dick in something else and stay the fuck away from?—”
A low growl made them both turn. With a twist to his heart more painful than anything Noah could ever achieve, Toby saw Mopsy stumbling down the stairs on her bandaged legs.
“No!” he shouted. “Mops, you’re not supposed to take the stairs!”
He broke free of Noah’s grip—or maybe Noah let go—and the next thing he was crouching in front of Mopsy, scooping her into his arms. “Sweetheart, you’ll hurt your legs. You’re such a silly girl.”
But Mopsy wasn’t listening; her dark gaze was fixed on Noah, her teeth bared, and she was still growling, still trying to defend him. Close to tears, Toby turned to tell Noah to fuck off, but when he saw the expression on the ex-biker’s face, he almost dropped Mopsy. It was beyond sadness. Beyond pain. The look of a wounded animal frantically fighting off death. He’d seen it before when he was twenty-one, and a baby kangaroo got hit by the car in front of him. He”d pulled over to see what had happened, and the joey, missing a leg and covered in blood, had almost collided with him. He’d looked down, and the pain burning in its eyes had ripped through the heart of him. He still had nightmares about it. And now it was happening again; only it was a human face filled with agony.
“Noah,” he heard himself say. “What happened?”
A lone tear fell onto Noah’s cheek, his eyes never moving from Mopsy as she continued to growl her weary, determined growl. “Nikki lost the baby.”
Terror ran through Toby like a switchblade. He sank to his heels, still holding Mopsy.
“Fourth in two years,” Noah said, his lips barely moving. “I’m never gonna be a dad. Nikki’s never gonna be a mum. I don’t know what to fucking do. I’d go back to jail to make it stop, but there’s nothing I can fucking do.”
Toby’s stomach heaved. He closed his eyes and tried to force the sick, churning feeling down. “I’m so fucking sorry, mate.”
A rough tongue moved across his cheek, Mopsy licking his face. Toby’s eyes burned, and he pressed his face into her soft, golden fur.
How long they stayed like that; him hugging Mopsy as Noah stared, Toby would never know. But when he finally lifted his face, the man in front of him was more like the one he’d met at Silver Daughters. Quiet. Patient. Kind.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”
“S’kay,” Noah mumbled, gaze still locked on Mopsy. “Not your fault.”
Toby felt a surge of something close to hope, and with the feeling he was taking his life right into his hands, he decided to try to explain.
“Tabby and I hooked up ages ago. My first time was with her. The night of Sam and Nicole’s birthday party. You were around. You might not have known it was me in her room, but it was.”
Noah said nothing, but Toby told himself he’d leave if he didn’t want to listen, and kept going.
“I wouldn’t have made a move; she came onto me. And you’re right, I have been in love with her forever, but when she said she wanted to… when it happened, I thought it was because we would give it a shot, but you were right again. She didn’t see me that way. To her, it was just something to do. It was just a game. So, I left. Figured I could try to find some way to make her see me as something more and, at the very least, stop embarrassing myself around her.”
Powerful emotions were warring across Noah’s broad face. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and Toby guessed—crazily— that he wanted to say something supportive.
He forced himself to keep going. “I was a simp and a pussy, and I paid Tabby to give me a tattoo, hoping that if I spent time with her, she’d see I changed. And maybe I’d change her mind about me. And we have been hooking up since, and I’ve been paying for her presents, but I swear to you, with everything I have, it’s been good, Noah. It’s been fucking good and above board the whole way, and I never told her to change her hair colour or do anything she didn’t want to do. I still love her. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives.”
Another tear fell onto Noah’s stubbled cheek, and he knuckled it away.
“I love her,” Toby repeated, dizzy with how fucking true it was. How good it felt to say it out loud. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it… I’ll find a way to make everything right. I swear.”
Noah’s lip curled. “Everything?”
Toby thought of the children he and Nicole had lost, Tabby wishing her mum baked bread, the baby kangaroo hopping around with its leg missing. “I guess not.”
Noah’s hands balled into fists, and Toby froze, clamping his arms around Mopsy. If sleeping with Tabby had initiated this shakedown, witnessing Noah in such a state of vulnerability was likely to get him killed. He tensed, waiting for the smashing blow, but his old friend surged for the door, boots hammering on marble.
“Wait,” Toby called. “I don’t… is everything good? With me seeing Tabby?”
Noah turned to look at him, and he saw nothing had changed. In his hard green gaze burned the same threat he’d come to St Kilda to deliver—stay the fuck away from her.
Only now, he understood. Tabby was someone Noah could still defend. He was protecting his little sister because he couldn’t protect the baby that would never be born; the people his anger and his strength couldn’t help. His heart aching, Toby tried desperately to think of something to say, but before he could find it, the big man flung open the front door and strode into the darkness, cold night air rushing in to fill his absence.