The Unlucky Ones, page 17
“Wait?” I jerked back folding my arms over my rumpled T-shirt, my mouth parting. “You really do blame me?”
“Didn’t have a problem pointing me out in a lineup, did you?” Wrath skimmed the surface, his forehead contorting, his emotions quickly going from pleasure to anger.
“First of all, the entire restaurant was called in to identify you.” I stabbed at his chest. “And I lied to the police, to my uncle…and my best friend.” My anger drove him back a few steps. “I told them I was in the bathroom the whole time, and I didn’t see or hear anything. They knew I saw you getting arrested, but that’s it. I went in because we all had to. But I have never told a soul the truth of what happened. Not one person.”
He blinked, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to figure out my truthfulness.
“You were a thief and liar, but I still protected you… Don’t ask me why now. Chalk it up to being young and naïve, but the boy I was with in the bathroom didn’t feel like the guy they told me you were later.”
“Devon…”
“No. Do you know how much guilt I carried because I lied to my uncle? Not something I do. My father was all about honesty and morality. It went against who I was, but I did it. For you. And why were you arrested? For stealing drugs and money from a hospital. From people who need it. Who does that?” I pushed him back. “Did you sell them on the black market? Are you still? Is it what you and your brother do? Brothers and Thieves. Very apropos.”
His jaw gripped, his shoulders rising with fury. “You know nothing about me. Or my life.”
“Does anyone? Who are you anyway? Finn, Jake, or Lincoln?”
“Jake never existed….and Finn is no longer anyone I know.”
“He did in this life.” My hand darted down to the picture lying on the desk, holding it up to him. “Is she yours? Kessley is awfully close to Kessler.”
He plucked the image from my fingers.
“She’s none of your business. And I’m done talking here.” He stuffed the photo in his pocket and stalked toward the door.
“What?” I pursued him. “You decide when we’re done talking?”
“Yes.” He grabbed my arms, shoving me against the wall next to the door. Danger rose from his steely gaze as his body pressed into mine. “I have a bar to run, customers out there.”
“No.” Desire and anger wove a taut web inside me. “We’re not done.”
“Yes. We. Are.” He growled, shoving off me, yanking the door open.
“So you get what you want from me, your fill, and you’re done? I get it now.”
“Get what I want?” He stopped, his stare searing me. He lifted his hand, grabbing the ends of my hair, his head slightly shaking, spitting out, “Far from it. And I certainly will never get my fill.” He dropped his hand from me, clutching his fists, and stomped out of the room.
I slumped against the wall, gasping for air. I didn’t realize I stopped inhaling. My head and heart were a tornado, spinning, wondering what the hell happened.
The sex— holy shit—I couldn’t even put into words how unbelievable it was. My limbs were still quaking with the aftermath. It was better than I remembered or imagined, and my hormones were already asking for another helping. Demanding it.
But my logical side screamed at me to walk out of this bar for good and continue to pretend Finn Montgomery was a moment in my past and leave it at that. Except I couldn’t seem to walk away from Lincoln Kessler, even when my gut had told me to run at the beginning.
He was dangerous. On the wrong side of the law. And definitely hiding a chasm full of secrets. Who was the little girl? Was he still thieving? And why did so much of his underlying anger and resentment seem pointed at me?
I’d grown up with a father who always told us to do the right thing, but over time even my father began to see the gray areas in every situation and treated each crime differently.
Uncle Gavin would have no such dilemma. Turning Lincoln in to the police would be the right thing here. The only option. He committed a crime and broke out of jail. He was guilty in the eyes of the law.
I was my father’s daughter and before I did anything, I was going to figure out what Lincoln was hiding…and who the little girl was in the photo.
Chapter Nineteen
“What the hell is going on with you?” Nat fixed her glittery party hat, frowning at me. “You have been in a mood all week. It’s New Year’s Eve. Time to put all the bad stuff behind you and start new.”
I lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, I know, total bullshit.” She swished her hand. “But seriously, you have been strange all week.”
Strange. Yeah, you could call it that.
Being in the same vicinity as Lincoln was like being torn in half. He was a pull door, and I was pushing. In the week I’d been back, since…that night…we hardly spoke, and when we did there was so much underlying tension I was surprised the bar didn’t turn into a boxing ring. The entire week had been painful.
I was pissed at him, but mostly infuriated with myself…or more specifically, my body’s reaction to him. The more anger we spat at each other, the more I wanted to take him in the back office and really let my frustration go. Every time he brushed by me on accident, I had to bite back a whimper and stop myself from leaping on him.
“Is everything okay with your mom?” Nat asked while her hands deftly mixed cocktails. The crowds were already packing in, everyone happy and ready to celebrate the last night of the year.
I felt no such glee.
“No.” I shook my head. “But it won’t be. I saw her this morning, and she didn’t recognize me at all.”
“I’m sorry.” She put two martinis on my tray. It was getting busy enough Lincoln would have to come out soon. Miguel was getting bogged down by customers at the bar.
I shrugged. I was starting to come to terms with the reality my mother would never get better or be all right.
“You aren’t the only moody one around here.” She rolled her eyes, grabbing a few beers. “Jesus, Lincoln has been insufferable. I thought you returning would put him into a better mood. He’s worse now…and the tension between you two when you’re in the same room… If I didn’t know any better…” Nat tapered off, her eyes going wide, her mouth dropping open. “Oh. Holy. Shit!”
I peered around, my defense instincts kicking in.
“You did!” she exclaimed, her eyes glinting. “How did I not see this?”
“Nat…shhhh,” I hissed.
“Oh my god, you and Lincoln?” Her voice lowered a notch.
“No. Nothing’s going on.”
“Don’t lie to me. You screwed him, didn’t you?”
“Nat…”
“You did! ¡Pinche, chica! Tell me, was it in the office? Please tell me it was there because I’ve had so many fantasies about that room, and I’d like at least one of us to be living it out in real life.”
“Is my order done?” I grabbed for my tray, wanting to get away from this conversation. Though, another side wanted to yell out, Yes! And it was beyond mind blowing.
“No wonder he was never interested in Amelia.” She clicked her tongue, winking at me. “He wanted her little sister.”
Of course this was the time Lincoln decided to step out, strolling behind the bar. Nat’s expression blistered with elation, a knowing smile dancing on her face.
“Hey, Linc.” She nudged him with her elbow.
He peered at her, perplexity scrunching his brows, wondering why she was grinning like a goof. “What?”
“Nothing. Just saying hi.”
His lids narrowed farther; his gaze touched mine, sensing the odd tension going on before he jerked back to her.
“Get back to work. We’re going to be extremely busy tonight.”
“And here I thought you would be in a good mood now…satisfied and relaxed.”
He went still, only the bob of his Adam’s apple displayed the emotion he held back.
“It being the new year and all. Time to release old burdens.” Nat patted his arm.
I was going to kill her.
“Get to work,” he ordered, moving down the bar to talk to Miguel.
“I. Hate. You,” I leaned over, whispering hoarsely.
“Please. You love me,” she replied, placing the last of my order on the tray. “I really should hate you. Damn, I’m jealous. So…what happened? Why are you both in such foul moods? If I were you, I’d be doing acrobatics from the ceiling or screwing him in the office on a never-ending loop.”
Picking up my tray, I turned, not answering her, but in my head, I thought, the foul moods were because we weren’t in his office having endless sex.
A one-time encounter. Well, technically two times I couldn’t stop thinking about or wishing to repeat.
The bar was packed with celebrators, keeping my mind busy. Julie was flustered as usual, making mistakes and freaking out when she got another table. She was overwhelmed by the mass of people, and I had to admit it was the worst version of a server’s nightmare. I couldn’t keep up with or get to some of my tables in reasonable time, but we tried our best and most people understood. Some people were drunk enough already and too much in the spirit of the holiday to complain.
I wasn’t surprised Lincoln kept Nat on making drinks, he clearly wanted to stay far from me. But this time on my way back, he was in Nat’s spot. She was in the middle of the bar taking multiple orders and trying to put a dent in the throng screaming at her.
Sidling up to the server section of the bar, I acted busy going over my orders, ignoring him.
“You told Nat?” His rough voice cut through the commotion around me.
Glaring, I met his eyes. “No. She figured it out.”
“Really?” He scoffed.
“Yes,” I snipped. “For some strange reason she picked up on the tension between us and came to her own conclusion.”
He twisted away, grabbing a cocktail shaker, not responding. Anyone with half a brain could notice our hostility. Hostility drenched in sexual tension.
“I’m surprised you wanted to be this close…have to interact with me.”
He huffed through his nose sardonically, grabbing for a liquor bottle, muttering to himself. The bar was so loud with music and chatter, I thought I heard him say, “I want to do more than interact with you.” But I couldn’t be sure.
“Nat kicked me out. I guess my attitude wasn’t going well with the patrons.”
“Whose fault is that?” I muttered to myself. We could both be in much better moods if he would let his guard down for a second.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. Fake and condescending.
He clenched his jaw. His nostrils flared and a vein pulsed in his neck. My gaze wandered to the tattoo stretching down the side of his neck. This time I noticed a thick line underneath the dark ink. Like a scar. From far away it was hidden, but the way the bar light hit him, I really noticed it this time.
As I debated whether to engage in a conversation with him, I heard my name being called from behind.
Shit.
Peering over my shoulder, I watched my sister’s hips swing up to the bar, a sexy smile lowering her lashes as she took in Lincoln.
“Hey, sis.” She gave me a small hug but stared at the man behind the bar. “Thought I’d come down and bring in the new year with you guys.”
It wasn’t me she wanted to ring in the new year with.
“Hey, Linc,” she purred.
“Hey.” He lifted his chin at her, annoyance contracting his temples.
I steered far from the topic of Lincoln with my sister. In no way was I telling her something had happened between us, especially because it hadn’t ended well. But I still felt irritated with her for flirting with him. It wasn’t her fault; she had no clue, but my feelings didn’t seem to care. Her appearance made me suddenly upset with both of them, as if it were his fault she was still sniffing around him.
“Perfect.” I exhaled, tapping my fingers impatiently, wanting to be far from both. “Is my order ready yet?”
Lincoln shot me a surly look as he poured the cocktail into a highball glass.
“When you get a moment, can I get a shot? And I want to buy you one too,” Amelia flirted. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and you guys should have some fun too. Maybe get a little wild.”
I snorted, my lips pinching together so as to not say what I really thought. Getting Lincoln drunk and hoping he’d finally sleep with her was all my sister was thinking about.
Lincoln grabbed three shot glasses, pouring some of the Kamikaze he was making into the glasses and pushed it toward us.
“To a great new year. And amazing night.” Amelia grinned at him, downing the shot. I could feel his gaze on me, but I slammed back the shot, trying to ignore him. Most of my life I had acted like an adult. Been responsible. Reasonable. Tonight my bitchy teenager was in full bloom. The combination of Amelia and Lincoln drummed on my patience like a marching band.
“You crazy kids have fun getting wild.” I picked up my full tray, spinning around, ready to put distance between us.
A step was as far as I got before a hand grasped my wrist. As he spun me back around, he took the tray out of my hands, setting it back on the bar, his hold compressing on my arm.
“Julie,” he yelled behind me, his raspy voice punching with annoyance. “Deliver these to Devon’s table. I need a moment with her.”
Amelia’s gaping stare snagged on mine, her eyes wide, as if I had been caught by a teacher and was about to be reprimanded.
Before I could respond, he dragged me with him, his shoulders shoving through the throng of people like a linebacker. He marched us into his office and slammed the door behind us.
“I’ve had enough.” He swung me around to face him.
Anger discharged my defenses. “Had enough of what?”
“This attitude.”
“Mine?” I laughed. “Hello, pot, meet kettle.”
“You are driving me crazy.” His hands went into his dark hair, scrubbing fiercely.
“Same.” I folded my arms.
His palm drifted to his face, rubbing his forehead before he dropped his arm with a sigh. “What are we going to do here? Do you want me to fire you? Do you want to quit?”
“No,” I said quietly.
He sat back on the edge of his desk, muttering to the ceiling. “I am so fucked.”
“Why?” I stepped between him and the chair, his knees grazing me.
“Because you’re good; you do the right thing. I’m a criminal. Jesus, you’re related to the person who put me away.” He tossed up his arms. “You could make one phone call, and my life is over. As much as I try to straighten out my life, something always drags me back. And most of all… because I want nothing more than to bend you over this desk again until neither of us can move.”
Yearning ballooned in my lungs, flushing my skin. I stepped between his legs.
“I suggest you stay away from my hometown and my uncle.” I cupped his face lightly, loving the way his scruff felt under my palms. “But I won’t turn you in.”
“You don’t know that,” he practically whispered, covering my hands with his. “There is so much you don’t know about me.”
“Then tell me.”
He turned his face, not looking at me. He wasn’t going to talk. Not yet. I wasn’t to be fully trusted yet.
“Okay.” My fingers slipped down his jaw to his neck, skimming the raised scar under his tattoo. “Tell me how you got this.”
He raised his lashes up, swallowing at my touch. “The first night in prison a group jumped me. Slit my throat.”
“What?” Panic bolted my spine straight.
“I fought them off. Almost bled to death.” His voice vibrated under my fingers. “No moment of doubt or weakness. You have to prove yourself. Fast. Or you become their bitch. They saw me as the new boy candy who they could dominate and control.”
“Oh my god.”
“I was in the infirmary for two weeks. Ruined the shit out of my vocal cords, but I was lucky to live.”
That was why his voice was different, and why I didn’t recognize it as the guy who growled in my ear five years ago.
“They tried again once I got out of the clinic. That’s when I started to work out every moment I had. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s bitch.”
“Did they…?”
“Rape me?” He bluntly filled in. “No. I may be sexy as hell, but I can fight.”
A sharp burst of laughter surged from me. “Someone’s cocky.”
He grabbed my hand, lifting his shirt, and placed my hand slightly above his hip. My breath quickened.
“Feel that?” He rubbed my fingers over a deep scar wrapping around almost to his back.
“Yeah,” I rasped. How did I miss this the other night?
“It was their second attack. Almost punctured my kidney. Not cocky. I had to fight like hell. Always on guard. Never show emotion. It’s the only way to survive.”
My gaze raised to his. How many nights had I thought about him? But not once did I ever think of what he must be going through or what was happening to him behind bars. I simply pointed him out of a lineup and left, never to think of him as more than the one who captured my fantasies.
“I’m so sorry.”
He rolled his lips together, shrugging. “Can’t change the past.”
“Would you? If you could?”
“What do you mean? Not get thrown into prison? Hell yeah.”
“No…I meant.” Chagrin shifted my weight to the other leg. “I mean you were caught because you lingered at the diner.”
“You mean, would I take back you?”
“Yeah.”
No response came, constricting my throat.
“Freckles…” He swallowed.
“No, I get it.” I backed away. “I ruined your life.”
“Look, I made my own choices.” He stood up, following my retreat. “I only have myself to blame. But…being with you that day? What happened because of it?” He drew his hands up to his hips, staring at the floor. “I can’t answer your question.”
