The Unlucky Ones, page 11
“Leave, James.” Lincoln stood behind him, his arms folded, his jaw ticking with anger.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t tapping this one.” James nudged his brother and stumbled. “I know your type.”
“Leave. Now.” Venom filled every syllable. “I will not ask you again.”
“Oh, the almighty Lincoln…has spoken.” James pointed at him with a wink. “I’m quivering in my boots.”
“You’re wearing flip-flops.” I tipped my head toward his feet.
Lincoln’s gaze snapped to me; the briefest flick of humor wiggled his mouth before he looked back to his brother.
“Oh, I like her.” James wiggled his finger at me. “Funny. Smart. I can see why you hired her. Quite different from your last one.” He snapped his fingers. “Kim, right? What a bitch.”
Lincoln dove for his brother, grabbing his arms. “Stop talking now,” he growled, his voice vibrating the ground. “I’m not changing my mind. Get someone else to help, James. I’m done helping you.”
James’s easygoing expression dropped, his eyes narrowing with resentment. “Fuck you.” He shoved his brother away. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re not. Pretend all you want. I know the truth. You haven’t changed. You’re just a fraud pretending to be a king sitting on your throne here.” James threw up his arms, gesturing to the saloon. “It was mine first. You’re benefiting from what I started.”
“You mean the one you ran into the ground?” Lincoln snarled, stepping back to him. “I saved it. It’s still here because of me.”
“With one call all that could go away.” James smiled deviously.
Fury quivered through Lincoln, his temper settling into a chilling calm. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.” James didn’t waver from Lincoln’s deadly gaze. “Brothers & Thieves… My name is still on the paperwork.”
Lincoln’s jaw rolled, his nose flaring. “Get out.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Get out now.” Lincoln folded his arms, his chest heaving up and down.
“I will be back. You can’t get rid of me so easily.” James gripped Lincoln’s corded arm. “Wow, getting a little scrawny there. Time to hit the gym,” he mocked and turned to Nat, reaching for her hand. “Always a pleasure, mi bellezza.”
Nat tucked her hand away.
James whirled toward me. “I don’t know you, but I would very much like to.”
“I’ll pass.”
He snorted, walking backward. “I really like her.” His playfulness dropped as he spoke to his brother. “You can’t fight it, brother. You’ll come back. Can’t argue with nature.” Then he walked out of the door.
The three of us stood in silence for a few beats, my head trying to wrap around everything that happened.
Lincoln cleared his throat. “I’m sure you girls have work to do.” He swiveled around and strode back to his office, slamming the door.
Slowly turning to Nat, my mouth parted. “What the hell happened?”
“James.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “He’s a piece of work.”
“He was your boss? Really?”
“Honestly, I don’t know how he kept this place going as long as he did. I grew up with brothers in gangs. I know when things are crooked, and some shady shit was going on. Our books were always in the red, but somehow, he always got more booze, drugs, and money from somewhere.” Nat pulled glasses from the washer, wiping them down. “Makes me think there’s more to the Thieves part in the name.”
“And you didn’t mind working for him?”
“Who the fuck am I to judge?” She chuckled. “I had a child with an infamous gang leader.”
Fair enough.
“See, this is where you and I differ and where your innocence comes into play. You may have been through some crappy stuff, but you have never had to live on the other side of the law. Things aren’t black and white when they’re about survival.”
“When your father was the head sheriff and now your uncle is, you could live on one side of the law,” I sighed.
“Oh shit, your family is law enforcement?”
“My dad died in the line of duty.”
“Right, you told me.” She picked up another wet glass. “I didn’t put it together he was a cop. Thought you meant the military.” She rolled her bright red lips together. “Pinche, all the stuff I told you and you’re a cop’s daughter.”
“So?”
“You don’t understand. It’s instinctual. People like me stay quiet and as far from the law as we can get.”
“But you haven’t done anything.”
“Doesn’t matter; the color of my skin can be enough.” She set the clean glasses on the shelf. “And I’m not so innocent. There are things in my past far from legal.”
“Really? What?” I was not shocked but curious.
“I’m not going to go into it,” she responded evasively. “But let’s say when a loved one is in need, there is nothing you won’t do.”
Saturday night was even crazier than the night before, and once again Lincoln emerged from the office to tend bar. I expected him to be in a foul mood, but he seemed more introspective. Lost in thoughts, while his hands automatically worked. Strangely, my impulse was not to pull him out of it but touch him—connect eyes—let him know I was there in some way. Not sure why I felt so protective of him, but I couldn’t stop the instinct from overwhelming me, twitching my hands.
He set an order on my tray, already grabbing for the next ticket.
“Thank you, Lincoln.”
At the sound of my voice, his head jolted up, as if I’d broken him out of a trance, his eyes landing on mine with a penetrating focus. Flames flared in my stomach, burning down the world around us. Nothing else existed, his brown eyes swallowing me whole. Ferocious and brutal, his stare consumed me. Held me in place, flipping the switch that didn’t think. Only wanted.
Neither of us moved or breathed.
“It’s packed in here tonight.” A hand hit my arm, jolting me. “Took me ages to get here.” My sister’s voice infiltrated my ear.
“Amelia?” I waggled my head in confusion as if I just woke up. “What are you doing here?”
A flirty grin bowed her lips, her eyes sliding to Lincoln. “I told you I’d stop by, remember?”
Right. She did.
“I was hoping to see you tonight.” She leaned on the bar, a coy expression coloring her cheeks, her full force centered on Lincoln.
Damn, she was good.
Lincoln dipped his head at her, his gaze going to me.
“Better get those to your table.” He waved me off.
What happened? Was he trying to get rid of me? Did he want to be alone with my sister? I gritted my teeth and grabbed my tray, the weight making my bruised hand ache. Spinning around, I shoved through the crowd, reaching my section, slapping the beverages on the table so hard they spilled onto the table.
“Hey!” a couple cried, moving away from the spill. I went to my next table, ignoring their calls for me to come back.
“What do you want?” I clipped out, impatient for the group to spit out their order, my attention drawn behind me, trying to observe my sister.
I felt punched in the chest. Arrows shot into my torso, forcing me to gasp for air. Amelia had moved to the end of the bar closer to Lincoln, her hands on his arms, up on her tiptoes, pressing into his solid form, whispering in his ear. What hurt even worse was he leaned down into her, an odd grin on his face, listening to whatever she said to him.
Oh. God. I was an idiot. This was what it looked like when a guy liked you. A lump strangled my throat and embarrassed tears blurred my eyes.
I prided myself on always being a good employee. Never taking my personal mood out on the customers, but in this moment I lost my head. My attention constantly slipped back to the bar.
“Devon! Your orders are piling up here. Get them off my counter.” The kitchen staff kept yipping at me every time I came in.
I heard the complaints, but I couldn’t seem to get my shit together. Whenever my gaze snuck over my shoulder, my sister was all over Lincoln, touching him. Her face was bright and smiling as she cupped one hand to his face, dragging his head to her lips, her lids heavy, murmuring something in his ear.
Lincoln blinked and then his lips parted in a laugh I could hear all the way from my table. The sound, usually delighted me in the rare times I heard it, now filled me with jealousy. I had never felt this way over a guy, not even when I found out Cory was cheating on me with my best friend.
Amelia had made him laugh when I could barely get a smile out of him.
My throat choked with emotion, my eyes suddenly moist. I couldn’t believe it; I was going to cry. In the middle of an order, I spun away, with the urge to hide from the blast of irregular emotion.
“Hey? Where are you going? Miss, we didn’t finish our order yet.” I didn’t respond. I needed oxygen before the room strangled me to death. Propelling through the crowd, my elbow knocked over a tray of Julie’s drinks. Her mouth dropped open, but I didn’t stop, jetting out the back door, sucking in gulps of night air.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was being stupid. This was probably more about what was going on with Mom than him. I mean, nothing was going on between us. Nada. He wasn’t worth the hurt. Still, the brick of pain sat on my chest, not budging no matter what excuse I claimed.
I wasn’t the girl who cried over boys, who wasted time on drama. I had too much going on at home to have time for anything else. Yet, since I moved here and started working at this bar, things had changed. My patience had grown short, and my temper ready to flare at a moment’s notice. I hated feeling out of control.
Gathering myself together, I sucked in a few more gulps and went back inside. Ten steps were all I got before a hand wrapped firmly around my bicep, pulling me back toward the office.
“Are you trying to get fired now?” Lincoln growled, his huge frame coiled like a snake, plodding us down the hall. “In a matter of minutes, you spilled ten drinks and left three tables complaining of crappy service.” He swung open his door, practically throwing me in, and slammed it behind him. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Not especially.” I glared at him, my arms folding over each other.
He took two steps, his frame dwarfing mine, his jaw rolling back and forth. He didn’t speak, staring down at me, a vein in his neck bulging with tension.
His nearness only aggravated me because of his intoxicating smell and warmth. “You don’t scare me.”
“Really?” He regained the space I put between us.
“No.” I craned my head back, challenging him. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“Trying?”
“No one likes a bully, Lincoln.”
His mouth twitched. Amusement touched his face.
“What happened?”
You. My sister. Life.
I pinned my lips together.
“Devon,” he warned.
“Are you dating my sister?”
His eyes went wide, his boots shifting back. “What?”
Shit. Why did I ask that? It was too late now; I opened the can.
“I think I have a right to know.” I clicked up my chin. “I don’t want it to interfere with my job.”
His gaze ran over me, dropping my righteousness down to the floor. I dug my toe into the wood slats.
“Is that what’s wrong?” His voice held a note of surprise. “You thought I was interested in your sister?”
Now I felt stupid. But she made him laugh and flirt back. Why wouldn’t I think that?
Lincoln moved closer, the heat from his body blasting into mine. “Are you jealous?”
“What? No!” I spurted out. “Get over yourself… I just know my sister. And if you guys broke up, I wouldn’t want it to affect my job.”
“So…without my knowledge, I’ve already dated and broken up with your sister?”
“Yes. No...” I shoved at his chest. Damn, why was he so close? “You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t. Please, I’d love to hear this.”
An aggravated groan crawled out of my throat, my fingers pinching my nose. This guy tied me in knots, losing all sense of up or down.
“Damn, you are infuriating.”
A low chuckle vibrated from his chest, and I was lost in the deep timbre of it. He stared down at me, all humor dying away, the room filling with tension.
“I’m not the only one.” His hand lifted, looking as if he were going to touch my face, but it dropped, picking up my arm instead. “How’s your hand?”
“Hurts,” I croaked.
“It will for a while. Bruises can be worse than breaks.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles, my heart knocking so hard against my ribs I was sure he could hear it. He lifted his head and peered back at me.
Kiss me. The thought practically screamed at him.
As if he heard it, he took a large step back, tipping his head forward. “You better get back to work. Julie’s probably rocking in the corner by now.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed with a nod, stepping around him. “I should. Sorry.”
“Before you have me married with children, give me a heads-up.” He turned to face me.
“Shut up,” I snorted, shaking my head.
“And no more spilling drinks tonight, okay, Freckles? I’m trying to stay out of the red.”
Scorching heat zipped down my spine, whirling me around. “What did you call me?”
Lincoln’s expression went neutral, his eyes boring back into mine with no emotion. “Nothing.”
“No.” My lungs struggled to get enough air, my voice low and severe. “What did you call me?”
His head dropped, his fingers grazing his files a little too nonchalantly. “Did I overstep the employer/employee line? I apologize.”
My gaze ran over him, my chest heaving. “Why did you call me that?”
“Because you have a lot of freckles. I’m sure I’m not the first.” He shifted on his feet, his impassive regard going back to me. “Again, I apologize for crossing the line. Won’t happen again.” He pulled out his chair, dismissing me.
My feet seemed locked in place, the nickname slamming into my gut like a bullet.
“Get back to work, Miss Thorpe.”
It still took me a few moments before I opened the door and left, my legs shaky.
Of all things to call me.
Freckles.
It may not have been unique or original. Many people have called me it. It was a nickname I got teased with a lot as a child. I did have a lot of freckles. But I couldn’t get over the way it slid from his mouth, melting my bones.
“Open your eyes, Freckles. Want those eyes on me.”
“Jesus, Freckles. The way you feel? I will gladly fuck you forever.”
In this memory I could still feel the cool wall of the bathroom stall against my back, pressed up against the guy I’d recreated in my head for so many years. The way his tongue wrapped around the pet name…and me.
Get a grip, Devon. Stop turning every guy into him.
The nickname was a trigger to me, similar to when you heard an old song or smelled something that would place you back to another time and place. I became restless and quite frankly, horny.
Maybe my sister wasn’t the only one who needed to get laid.
Chapter Thirteen
Weeks skated by and Lincoln kept his distance from me. When we did interact, he was professional, calling me “Miss Thorpe,” irritating me beyond belief.
Thanksgiving break was a little quieter, with people spending time with their families, but we still had a crowd the night before and after. I guess bonding with family on Thanksgiving made everyone want to drink.
Mine was spent helping Mom eat some mashed potatoes, which she choked on. Mia played in the corner, and Amelia chatted nervously at Mom, filling her in on Mia’s latest milestones and news from Uncle Gavin. Mom seemed more content now and less combative, which was encouraging, although she mostly stared at the TV, saying little. When she did speak, her words were getting harder to understand. It often sounded like nonsense.
“Devon, can I talk to you?” The head nurse, Bethany, pulled me to the side as my sister, the escape artist, glided by me, taking Mia to the car.
My shoulders dropped, “Yeah, of course.”
“This is the worst part of my job, especially during the holidays.” Bethany shifted her weight, gripping her clipboard. “But I wanted us to be on the same page. Your mother is showing signs of entering the final stage. She is having difficulty swallowing as you noticed, but also she’s unable to control her bladder or bowels. She seems to be losing the ability to coordinate her basic motor skills. Unfortunately, this is when it gets really tough.”
It wasn’t before?
Bethany pressed her lips together sympathetically. “Your mom is young. Strong. She might not slide as fast as others. There is always hope. And luck.” Nope, we didn’t have that. “She will become increasingly harder to communicate with. It will get to a point she can no longer eat…and then.”
“Yeah, I know. She will forget how to breathe.” I had read everything I could on each stage of Alzheimer’s.
“When you’re ready, sooner than later, you need to look over the paperwork your mom set up when first diagnosed. I noticed you and your mom signed a durable power of attorney for both the financial and health care, along with a living will. It will help tremendously.”
My nails dug into my palms, trying to hold myself together. “Mom told me when she first found out she would not want to prolong her life. She would come back and haunt my ass if I did. She definitely signed a DNR.”
“Sounds like the Alyssa I met when she first came in.” Bethany chuckled, a sad smile on her mouth. “We still need you to come in and go over all the paperwork.”
I nodded in agreement, but my heart screamed like a child throwing a tantrum. It didn’t matter I had the last five years to come to terms with her disease, it wasn’t enough to get used to losing her.
Between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two, I’d carried the responsibility of knowing my mother would die young. Guilt weeded and grew inside me because there were days I had even wished it for her, wished the pain and heartache away for her, for all of us. But now death was running up the road, and I sought to shield her, hide her from its finality. I wanted to be selfish. To keep her. Without her, Amelia and I would be orphans. No matter how old you were, it never felt okay.
