My dad dropped his shovel and turned to me, the calm patience on his face only making me angrier. “Listen, son—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, holding my hand out to stop him and backing away at the same time. “You have no fucking right.”
“Okay. Fine. Listen, Cole,” he began again, following me as I backed away. “I know I’ve done wrong by you and your mama. I’m trying to fix it. I really am. I’m attending AA meetings, trying to get my crap together.” He eyed my wrinkled clothes and days growth of beard. “You should join me sometime.”
I guffawed, the sound forced.
“And about the roses…” He gestured behind him at the little bush. “I never bought your mama any and she loved them so much. I … I regret not giving her some sooner before … before she took sick and left us. I regret that every damn day of my life. So these are for her. Because she deserved them a long time ago.”
I shook my head. The movement sent pain shooting through me and made tears of agony fill my dry, bloodshot eyes.
“One day you’ll understand, Cole. You’ll love someone. But I hope to God you never have to lose her.”
An image of Sam flashed across my mind. I tried to imagine life without her and couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
My dad eyed me, his faded eyes full of sorrow. “If you find a girl, Cole, buy her roses. Lots of them. Fill her room full. Give them to her just to see her smile. Just don’t regret anything, Cole, like I do. Like I will for the rest of my life.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing his words away. I would never love anyone. I refused to. Look what it had done to him. But Sam kept popping in my mind. I swore softly. She had always been the exception to the rule but I couldn’t let her be this time.
I opened my eyes, ready to make a snide comeback to my dad, but my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. Bent.
“Later,” I mumbled to my dad, walking away.
“Dude, where the fuck are you?” Bent’s gravelly voice asked when I answered.
“Um, in the Pit,” I said, getting back into my car. That’s the name Bent and I had christened our neighborhood back in the day. The Pit. Because the chances of climbing out of it were nonexistent.
“Where’s my sis?”
“At home. In bed.” Crap. Even thinking of Sam in bed had me wanting to get my rocks off.
“Everything cool?” Bent asked.
I started the car and revved the engine, catching my dad watching me out of the corner of my eye. “You tell me,” I said, needing Bent to reassure me that he had taken care of his mess, whatever it was.
“I got something to do, but don’t worry about Sam. She should be fine. You’re off the hook, buddy.”
I wanted to tell him that I was afraid I would never be off the hook with her, but I kept my mouth shut. “Bent,” I said with warning. “You better not put her in any more danger. I will have to kick your ass myself.”
Bent snorted. “When did you care so much about Sam?”
“Um, since you made it my goddamn job,” I answered. I drove by her trailer, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I imagined her getting out of bed, looking sexy and disheveled.
“Whatever. I’ll catch you later,” Bent said, interrupting my daydream.
I checked my rearview mirror before slowing down to turn. “Bent, don’t do any crazy shit,” I said before he could hang up.
I could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “Look who the fuck is talking. Later, Walk.”
He hung up before I could respond. I shifted into second and floored it as I hit the highway. My Duster gained speed fast. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. The thing was a piece of crap on the outside but the inside had an engine that would make the best street racer drool. I popped the clutch on another gear and the car jumped forward. Ninety. Hundred. This is what I needed. Speed. It felt good and made me forget all the shit in my life.
Well, almost. Whatever the hell Bent was going to do, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. I also had a feeling it would touch Sam in some way. Since I was the one that taught Bent how to steal and introduced him to a life of crime, if he fucked up and Sam was hurt, it was on me. And I didn’t know if I could handle that.
Chapter Twenty–Five
-Sam-
“Wake up.”
I groaned and snuggled deeper under the covers, pulling a pillow over my head.
“Wake up!”
Crap, even in sleep Walker haunted me. I yanked the covers higher and drifted deeper into sleep. I was exhausted. For the past four days, I had worked as many hours as I could, hoping to forget about Walker. After he put his mouth on me and made me come, he had walked out of my room, leaving me with some crap about never loving anyone ringing in my ears. I hadn’t heard from him since. Not a text. Not a phone call. Nothing. Just an angry voicemail from Lukas, telling me how much of a bitch I was.
To make matters worse, I found empty bottles in the living room the next morning after Walker left. My mom swore were not hers. They were evidence that Walker had left either drunk or very hung over. I worried about him for hours. Had he gotten in a wreck? Passed out somewhere in a ditch? Was he even alive? Scenarios played out in my head until I was insanely mad. Finally Bentley called and told me Walker was fine. After that I was both relieved and pissed – relieved that he was okay, pissed that I cared. I was just another girl that Walker was having a good time with. Someone easy.
“Wake up, Ross!” This time the words were shouted along with a firm hand shaking my shoulder.
I peeled my eyes open and sat up, pushing the covers off me frantically. My long hair fell into my face, obscuring everything but what stood before me. The shadow of a large man loomed over my bed, staring down at me like I was his captive. Terror stole my breath away. Coldness washed through my veins. I had lived with this fear my whole life; that one of my mama’s boyfriends would venture into my room one night, out of his mind on dope or booze. Looking for a younger version of my mother.
I flipped over onto my stomach. It put me in a vulnerable position but I needed what I kept on the floor near the bed. My hand reached over the edge and found what I was looking for. A baseball bat - something I kept for just this type of occasion. When you lived with a mother that had a revolving door of druggies visit her bedroom, you learned to be on your toes even in the dead of night.
Getting a firm grip on the bat, I swung around, raising it high above my head. I aimed for the stranger in the dark, hoping he hadn’t moved. But before I could hit him, a large hand reached out and grabbed the bat, yanking it out of my hand.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, peering at him from between long strands of my hair.
“Too late for that, sweetheart,” the man said, flinging the bat to the floor.
The hair on the back of my nape lifted. An electrical charge zapped every nerve ending I had. Only one man caused that kind of reaction.
Walker.
“What are you doing here?” I shrieked, rising up onto my knees in the middle of the bed. I couldn’t see his face but I recognized the silhouette of Walker’s sculptured physique, the one that had been between my legs four days ago.
“I’m trying to wake you up,” he said, sounding irritated. “Get your ass out of bed, Sam. Now.”
“Why should I?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “You just walked out on me and didn’t call. You want to tell me what the hell that was about?” Shit, I sounded like a whiny, lovesick teenager. Shoot me now.
Walker leaned over and flipped on my tiny bedside lamp. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the light but when they did, my breath caught in my throat. He loomed over my bed, larger than life, looking oh so good.
Turning to me, he rested his knuckles on the bed by my knees and brought his face within inches of mine. “Didn’t think we were dating, sweetheart.”
His voice was like warm liquid washing over my skin, smooth and heated with the ability to send shivers over my bare
arms. Damn him. I hated that he had that effect on me.
“We’re not.” I smiled sweetly, refusing to look away and give him the satisfaction of knowing I was nervous. My insides were shaking and my heart was pounding but on the outside, I was as cool as a cucumber. “And stop calling me sweetheart. It’s annoying.”
He leaned closer, his eyes dropping down to my lips. “Why? You’re sweet. Every single inch of you.”
I swallowed, my body suddenly burning. I wanted to reach out and grab him, pull him down to the bed with me. But I resisted. Walker had made it plain that he could offer nothing but what he could give me in bed. And even though I wanted him, I wanted love too, something my mother never had. I knew I would never get that from Walker.
“Now, get up and get dressed,” he said, all traces of desire vanishing from his voice. “Before I pull you out of bed and strip you myself.”
I flushed, imaging that happening. “You sure are bossy. Why should I get dressed? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”
“Because Bent’s in trouble.”
Those words had me jumping out of bed, my feet hitting the carpeted floor with a thump. “What happened?” I asked, running to my closet and yanking a sweatshirt off the hanger. “Where is he?”
I glanced over my shoulder when Walker didn’t answer. He was watching me with dark, savage eyes. His gaze was locked on my bare legs and bikini-cut panties. The t-shirt I wore only reached my waist, leaving my underwear and legs exposed, vulnerable to his scrutiny.
I might have blushed if he hadn’t already seen me in less. Instead, I rolled my eyes and pulled the sweatshirt over my head. It was one of Bentley’s hand me downs – a dark green color with the words ‘Eastland High Track Team’ embroidered on the front. The kicker was Bentley had never been on the track team. Go figure.
“Walker, what happened?” I asked, bending over to grab a pair of shorts off my closet floor.
“Damn, Sam,” Walker said on a rush of air.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching him staring at my bottom with yearning and raw, bone-wrenching hunger.
“Walker!” I snapped, pulling my shorts on quickly and silently urging his eyes upward. “Concentrate! What happened to Bent?”
Walker took a deep breath, the longing disappearing from his gaze. “He’s been arrested.”
“WHAT?” The word left me in a whoosh. Feeling suddenly sick, I pushed past him, heading to the corner of the room where I last saw my Converses. As I passed Walker, my shoulder hit the solid muscle of his chest, pushing him back a step. It was like hitting a brick wall. One that was hot, strong, and capable of holding me close.
I ignored the weird tingling that raced up my arm from touching him and rushed to my shoes, irritation making my face red the entire time.
My room was too small for both of us. I realized that the other night. Walker took up too much of my space. MY space. I was suddenly angry. Angry that Walker was in my room again after walking out on me. Angry that he made me squirm and cry out with need, sending feelings coursing through me that I swore I would never succumb to.
But more than anything, I was angry that Bentley was walking down a path that had only a dark future. A path I had watched my mom go down more times than I could count.
Finding my shoes, I flopped down on the edge of the bed and pulled them on, my movements jerky. I was mad. Spitting mad. Everything was screwed up. My mom. My feelings for Walker. And now Bentley. Nothing seemed to be going right, but had it ever? I could withstand a lot and had over the years but I didn’t think I could handle watching my brother go to jail.
That might break me for good.
I tied my shoes with jerky motions. There were tears in my eyes that I wasn’t proud of but they were there for Walker to see, showing him just how weak I was.
He stood in front of me, patiently waiting. If he noticed my wet eyes, he didn’t let on. I focused on his jean-covered knees in my line of vision, feeding the anger in me. I needed to hate him. It was what I knew and right now I needed something familiar. My brother was in trouble and the only other man in my life was toying with me.
My gaze traveled higher, over Walker’s trim waistline and black t-shirt. Across his strong jaw. Up a nose that was slightly crooked from being broken in too many fights and into eyes that beamed down at me with something akin to aloofness.
I dropped my eyes quickly when I felt a flush start in my legs and travel upward. It was something that only happened when Walker was around. I forced myself to ignore the feeling and focus on what lie before me – getting Bentley out of jail.
“What happened?” I asked, rising to my feet and pulling down the hem of the oversized sweatshirt. Anything to avoid looking at Walker. If I did, I might remember where his mouth had been and right now it wasn’t important, even though my body begged to differ.
When Walker didn’t answer, I glanced up. He was staring at me, a frown on his face. A thread of unease ran along my spine.
“Walker?” I asked shakily. “You’re scaring me. What happened to Bentley?”
Impatience flickered in his eyes. “He’s sitting in a jail cell, that’s what happened. Let’s go.” He turned and headed to my door, not waiting for me, every move he made controlled.
Knowing I wouldn’t get any information out of him until he was ready, I followed Walker across my bedroom at a quick pace. The sooner we got to the police station, the sooner I could see Bentley and make sure he was okay.
Pam Man crossed my mind, the dirtiest of dirty cops. I wondered if he had anything to do with this. He had been a thorn in our side as long as I could remember. If he was at the police station and had touched a hair on Bentley’s head, I swore I would hurt him in a way he would not soon forget.
I grabbed my phone on the way out. Walker stopped in the doorway and waited for me to go first, giving me just enough room to squeeze between him and the chipped, off-white doorframe. I started to pass him, my body inches from his, when his hand lashed out and grabbed my wrist without warning.
“Don’t you think you need to put on some more clothes?” he asked, looking pointedly down at my bare legs.
I glanced down at my tanned thighs, exposed by the skimpy shorts I wore. They were short and form fitting, the first thing I grabbed out of my closet. But I didn’t have time to change. Bentley needed me. That’s all that mattered.
“I’m fine. Let’s go,” I said, jerking my wrist away from him and heading down the hallway. I could hear his footsteps following me, just an arms length away.
“I didn’t ask if you were fine, Ross. I said you needed to put on some clothes,” Walker said, walking close behind me. “Maybe something that doesn’t show off your ass so much.”
We passed my mom’s room and I noticed it was empty. Of course. One of her kids needed her and she was nowhere to be found. What else was new?
“My ass is covered and Bentley’s sitting in jail. We need to go,” I retorted, hiding my reaction when his hand brushed against my bottom.
“Fine but I’m not saving your butt when those short shorts cause trouble,” Walker grumbled.
“Who said I wanted you to?” I quirked, glancing over my shoulder at him.
He scoffed, his eyes turning fierce. “Brat,” he said in a deep, smooth voice.
My body heated to dangerous levels as he put his hand on my waist, moving me around my mom’s platform stilettos left in the hallway. I wondered where she was. If she would even care that her oldest was in jail.
“Do you know anything?” I asked. “Is Bent okay? What do they have him for?”
Walker dropped his hand from my waist to open up the front door, his eyes gliding over me. “I’ll tell you everything, Sam, but I want you in the car first,” he said, his gaze cold and unemotional.
“Why in the car? Why not tell me now?” I asked, my heart pounding with alarm. “He’s my brother. I have a right to know.”
Walker leaned down, his mouth inches from mine. “Because I know you too well, Sam
. You’ll flip out and I want you in my car when you do. It’ll save us time and a lot of headache. And,” his voice dropped lower, sending tingles along my nerve endings. “I want you out of this house and away from your bed. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing to me. I’m fighting the urge to pull those little shorts down and fucking take you right now, right here on the goddamn floor.”
I blinked then blinked again. My mouth formed a little o as my gaze dropped down to his crotch then back up again. His eyes were hard, his mouth set in a firm line. I could see the tension in his body and feel the danger I was in.
“Fine,” I said, the word clipped. “But you’re telling me everything on the way to the police station.” Without waiting for him, I jogged down the porch steps and out into the yard. I had to put some distance between us before I gave into what he wanted.
There was a nighttime chill in the air that immediately wrapped itself around my bare legs, sending goosebumps over my skin. I ignored it and headed for Walker’s car. His Plymouth Duster was sitting near the curb, looking menacing in the dark. I stopped on the cracked, crumbling sidewalk beside it and turned to wait for him.
He walked down the steps calmly, his eyes on me. His gait was measured, his hips rolling with each step. He was never in a hurry. The only time I ever saw him move fast was when he was jumping into a fight. Other times, he moved with careful precision, each movement calculated. Deliberate. It was frustrating. I wanted to grab him and scream to hurry. Was there nothing that could get him to move faster?
I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot impatiently. “Let’s go, Walker,” I said, fighting the urge to yell at him.
He kept walking toward me, his eyes keeping me locked in place. I shifted to my other foot, worried that he would see that small movement and know he was getting under my skin.
With three more steps he stopped directly in front of me. One foot separated us. I needed it to be more. Like maybe a mile. A nice, safe distance away from him.