Tied - Part Four (The Tied Series) (2 page)

We didn’t go straight back to the apartment, though. Mallet himself was visibly shaken. I knew he would have loved nothing more than to let loose a few high kicks and low punches on that asshole. But Mal was smarter than me, at least at the moment. He kept a cooler head.

He dragged us inside our neighborhood diner, All Day Breakfast. We went there so often that the staff recognized us and even wondered where our girlfriends were.

“Tonight,” I said after we’d ordered. More coffee, pancakes, enough bacon to give ourselves heart attacks. “I don’t want to wait.”

“I think you should sleep on it, at the very least,” Mal said. “Honestly… I think we should wait at least another week.”

I slammed a fist down, jostling the silverware and making the folks around us glare. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I have a good reason.”

“Yeah? Care to share it?”

“Katherine.” He shrugged lightly. “Their mother’s wedding is this weekend. I can’t risk showing up with a face full of bruises. And neither can you.”

“Me?” My lip curled in a snarl. “She didn’t fucking invite me.”

“Nope. She thought you wouldn’t want to come. But you’re going. You’re crashing this wedding.”

Fuck.

“Like hell I am. If she wanted me there, she would have texted.”

“She’s having your kid, man.” I knew that. Every time I thought about it, it was like a punch to the gut. My brain shied away from the subject like a beaten dog. I wasn’t ready to deal with it. “You’ve got to talk to her.”

“By crashing her mother’s wedding.”

“Yeah. Think about it.”

I’d have to dust off my suit. Assuming the thing even fit any more - I hadn’t worn it in ages. It still hung in a closet at my parents’ house. But damn… if I was ever going to try something crazy to sweep her off her feet, a wedding was the time and place.

Revenge consumed me, but it wouldn’t forever. Reality would come crashing home, and soon. I still wanted to be with her when it did - but the shame of the things I’d said still burned so hot.

How could I face her?

“I don’t know, man,” I said. “She might need more time and space.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Any one of my other friends would advise me to cut and run. Run far. And hide. But Mal knew me better than any of them. Sometimes he knew me better than my own brothers.

“I’ll sleep on that one, too.”

CHAPTER 2

I hadn’t made any decisions by the next day, or the day after.

I did have two uninvited guests.

The first was just a piece of mail. My address was handwritten; the return address sticker had Whitney’s name on it.

I nearly tore it to pieces when I opened it. And then I did when I read it - just a simple piece of looseleaf paper with a note scrawled in blue ink. “I know you’re pissed and we shut down the webpage, as promised. But we did receive donations during the time it was up and it wouldn’t be right for us to keep them. Signed, The Good Luck Girls.”

I tore that up first. Right in half, then in half again.

Next went the check, though I stared at it for a moment longer.
Seven thousand dollars.
Who the hell donated that much? Was it small amounts from lots of fans or did I have one big weird benefactor?

It didn’t matter. I didn’t want their charity, whoever “they” were. Not from the donors and not from the girls. Not from anyone. I tore it up and threw all the remnants in the trash.

The second visitor was much worse.

Mal was already gone for the day so I went thumping across the apartment to answer the doorbell myself.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick crossed his arms at my demand. Maybe it was a little rude of me but he was the last person I’d expected - or wanted - to see.

He was wearing a suit, but the tall, rotund man behind him was in a plaid shirt and jeans. “The hell is this?” I asked.

“Mover,” Patrick said, aiming a thumb over his shoulder. “I would have just paid you and your buddies to load up her stuff but she didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

He didn’t have to say her name. He didn’t have to tell me who he meant. Why else would he be here?

“I don’t think so, buddy,” I said, squaring my shoulders in the doorway. No way in hell were they getting past me. They were
not
moving her out - not if I could help it.
She’s still mine, dammit
.

“You can’t just keep her things, dude. That’s called stealing.”

“It looks like stealing from where I’m standing,
dude
. She didn’t say anything about a mover.”

“It’s just an assessment.”
Which means you’re just here to swing your dick. Fuck that
.

“Call her.” I crossed my arms, imitating his stance. Of course it was much more intimidating on me - I towered over the guy.

“She’s busy.”

“Fucking call her or you’re not coming in.”

The mover in the plaid shirt shifted uncomfortably. “I can come back another time…”

“No,” Patrick said, pulling out his phone. “Just wait a goddamn minute.” He pushed past the man and stood further out in the hallway, closer to the elevators. Probably he didn’t want me to overhear but fuck him if he thought I wasn’t going to eavesdrop.

“Katherine?” he said, glaring back at me. “I’m at your apartment with the mover. Yeah. We talked about this.” I would have happily wrung his neck to hear her side of the conversation. “Yeah, Lockett’s home and he’s not letting us in unless he speaks to you, first.”

We both waited, glaring at each other like a couple of leashed dogs contemplating an attack.

Finally, he grumbled something into the receiver and handed me the phone.

I stepped back into the apartment and slammed the door shut.

“Katherine?” I asked, suddenly apprehensive. It was easy to ignore how much I missed her when I was so angry at the world and so focused on revenge. But now?

“It’s me,” she said softly. “How are you?” The sound of her voice was like throwing ice water on all the fiery rage I’d been feeling. Shocking, yet somehow soothing. How long had it been since we’d spoken?
Too long
. I waited too long, gave her too much space.
I’ve hurt us more than I’ve helped us, fucking hell…

“I’m good,” I said, “Better. The cast is gone.”

“Yeah? Are you in much pain?”

“No,” I lied, “I’m in one of those boots that keeps your foot really still. Doesn’t feel like much of anything.”

“That’s good. I guess you’re glad to throw out the crutches.”

“Very.” I didn’t elaborate on how I’d hurled them into the Hudson River. “What about you, how’s the camp?”

“It’s really great,” she said, her voice brightening for just a moment. “I’m having such a good time with the kids, sometimes I can’t even believe I’m getting paid to be there.” I could picture her smile, and suddenly, I was desperate to see it.

“Don’t move out.”

“Lockett-”

“Don’t.”

“Lockett. I didn’t send them.”

I gripped the back of the couch as relief weakened my legs. “Then what the hell is going on?”

“I’m not really sure. But Patrick thinks it would be best-”

“Stop. Just stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “Jesus. Fucking Patrick. Sometimes I have to wonder if he’s been wedging himself in between us from the start.”

“That’s not true,” she said, “And that’s not fair. He’s my sponsor. I needed him.”

“Do you still?”

“Obviously!”
No you don’t, you have me!
I wanted to scream. But I hadn’t really proved that yet, had I? “Let them in,” she said, “He’s just getting a price quote. Nothing’s official yet.”

Yet
. “Come home.”

“We need to get together and talk,” she said, her voice so low I almost couldn’t hear her. “Soon. But not now. Just let Patrick have a look, please? It won’t take them long.”

“And nothing’s official yet,” I said, repeating what she’d said a moment ago.

“Right.”

“I miss you.”

I could hear the pain in her voice when she replied after a long moment. “I miss you, too.”
I did that. I fucking hurt her.
But holy shit, she was hurting me, too. Let Patrick inside my home? Let him rifle through her things while I watched?

Not cool at all. Part of me wondered if she was allowing it just to be cruel. Just to get back at me.
Can’t really blame her for that, can I?

We exchanged goodbyes, and I finally opened the door and handed Patrick back his phone. “She says you can look but that’s all,” I said, letting him and the mover pass inside.

I watched them circle her room and peek inside her drawers and closet. I directed them to the kitchen where she’d stored just a few pots and pans. I pointed out her shelf in the linen closet.

And I slammed the front door as hard as I fucking could when they finally walked the hell out. Hard enough to shake the frame. Hard enough that the next door neighbor slammed a fist on the wall to voice his disapproval.

I called Mallet, hoping he was on a break, hoping he’d pick up. But no such luck - his phone went straight to voicemail. He was probably busy at practice.
Like I used to be.
I tried not to squeeze my phone to death.

“Mal,” I said after the beep, “I’m in for the weekend. I’m crashing that wedding.”

I disconnected and slammed the phone down on the couch. It bounced to the floor.
Fuck
.

Foot be damned, I had to get out.
May as well go dig out the suit
. It meant visiting my parents, but that was fine. They’d be happy to see me. Hell, they’d insist on feeding me. It would take a little while to get out to their place, but it wasn’t like I had anything else to do.

That was something else that was missing. I needed a damn job.
Lee had better come through
. If I was so busy handing out blame to everyone around me, he was one of the more deserving targets, for sure.
Maybe I’ll pay him a visit first
.

○●○●○●○●○

“Where’s my workman’s comp check, motherfucker?” I burst into Lee’s office without knocking. Back behind me in the gym, Braddock was sparring some other fighter while Cara looked on.
My blondest good luck girl. I guess none of them are “mine,” anymore
. I’d pointedly ignored them all on my way across the floor.

“This was never a union gig,” he grumbled from behind his desk. He typed away on an ancient keyboard, staring into a yellowing monitor the likes of which I hadn’t seen in ten years. I was shocked something so old still worked.

Finally, after painfully chicken-pecking out another two words, he looked up. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Sorry to disappoint?” I quirked an eyebrow. “Forget about me already, old man? They’re making improvements on that in the medical community. But it might be too late for you.”

“Fuck you.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a business card. He slid it across his desk at me. “Call this number. Make sure you get Carlos. Old buddy of mine. He usually hires retired cops but he’s got an opening with your name on it.”

I turned the card over. Vincent and Vincent Technosecurity. “What’s the gig?”

“Watching monitors. See something say something. You don’t chase down any shady fuckers, you just call the cops.”

It sounded boring as all hell but a job was a job and money was money. God knows I needed it. I was down to my last rent check. And poor Lisa’s family… I knew she wouldn’t want me to worry about them, but I hated that I couldn’t help them out anymore.
Maybe if this pays well enough…

“Overnight hours,” Lee went on. “It sucks but the rate’s a little higher.”

“Sounds good.” I waved the card at him. “Thanks.”