Whisky State of Mind (19 page)

The sound of heavy footsteps coming down her hallway
, though, was not in her imagination and she reached for the book on her bedside table, desperate for anything she could use to throw at…
Sawyer?
“What the hell? How did you get in my apartment?” Sky demanded, her voice thankfully getting stronger the faster her initial fright began to wear off.

“Whoa. Sorry. I heard you yell…”

For a moment, she couldn’t work out why he was staring at her, until she looked down and remembered she’d only worn her towel to bed. In the commotion of waking from her dream and hearing an intruder, the blanket had slipped down and her breasts were perilously close to being completely revealed.

“Damn it. Get out, Sawyer,” she shrieked, yanking back the covers as she watched him back out of the room.

Maybe she was still dreaming. A headache seemed to have settled in and Sky touched fingertips to her forehead, wincing as she bumped her cheek and remembered the slap she’d received.

With slow movements, she opened her wardrobe and pulled out a clean set of underwear, sweat pants
, and a soft cotton t-shirt. She needed to get dressed. Then she needed a coffee so she could face Sawyer and find out what the hell he was doing in her apartment.

Chapter
18

He’d been dozing when her scream had woken him. He was on his feet and outside her doorway before he remembered she didn’t know he was here. He’d felt bad about scaring her, but the sight of her sitting there in bed, with a book of all things raised and ready to throw at him had caught him off guard. What was she going to do, read him to death with it? Then his gaze had dropped lower where the blanket had slipped, revealing a generous eyeful of creamy breast that sent his libido into overdrive. It was sad really, that a guy with his experience had absolutely no control over his body parts. Where Whisky McKenna was concerned, he was no better than a horny teenager.

He hadn’t been able to see her face when she’d been asleep, but when he’d walked in just now, he’d seen the red beginnings of a bruise on her cheek and couldn’t wait to get back to the club house to take out some of his rage on the bastards who’d done this to her. He unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. He needed to reel in his anger. At least they hadn’t gotten any further than roughing her up a little.

This was his fault. He was supposed to be here watching over her. He’d managed to track down Shaggy and Gomez to keep watch while he dealt with Johnny, but it had been his responsibility to make sure she was safe and he’d let her down.
Christ,
attacked in a God damn alleyway. He couldn’t believe it.

Ever since she’d left the bar, he’d known something was up, not to mention all the shit that had been happening with the Switchblades. He had a feeling those bastards would try something like this. He’d been in Johnny’s room, trying to convince him everything was under control when Shaggy had called to tell him Sky had been attacked. Remaining calm so the old man hadn’t picked up on his rage had been the performance of his lifetime
; he’d had to make up a hasty excuse and left the hospital at a run.

Damn it
, he wanted to hit something, but Sky was already freaked out enough for one night; she didn’t need him breaking things on top of everything else.

Sawyer had been calling her, but when he got no answer, he’d let himself into her apartment to check on her. Never had he felt more relieved to find her tucked up in bed and fast asleep. Unwilling to leave her here alone, he’d stayed, making himself comfortable on her sofa until she woke up.

He looked up as she made her way past him and into the kitchen.
Be cool, man,
he warned himself, getting up from the sofa and following her into the tiny kitchen.

“You didn’t tell me how you got in here,” she said quietly, without looking at him.

“I used your keys. Shaggy found your handbag in the alley,” he said, watching her face and feeling his gut clench as she flinched slightly at the mention of the place where she was attacked. “I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

“How did Shaggy happen to be in the neighborhood?” she asked, taking two coffee cups down from the cabinet.

She sounded calm…almost too calm and Sawyer watched her warily. “I sent him and Gomez to watch you.” He braced for the explosion he was sure was about to follow, but she simply continued to spoon in granules of coffee.

“Does this have something to do with the guns?”

Sawyer felt his mouth drop in surprise and quickly shut it.
How the hell had she known about the guns?
“What guns?”

“I heard you on the phone the other day. I know you’re mixed up in something illegal.”

“It’s complicated.”

“The Switchblades wanted me to give a message to Dad. They’re taking over your territory.”

“The Switchblades have made a big mistake. They won’t be bothering you again.”

“Really? You’re going to go deal with them, are you?”
she asked, bitterly.

“They knew what they were taking on when they made the decision to rape and beat a rival’s daughter
,” Sawyer pointed out, hating that he’d brought up the attack but needing her to understand she was safe. “So that’s why you quit the bar? The phone call you overheard?”

“Obviously it wasn’t soon enough. I should never have started there in the first place.”

Her comment hit him square in the chest. She was right—the Switchblades somehow found out who she was because of the job at the bar…the job he insisted she take. He’d put her in harm’s way.  “I’m sorry, Whisk. You’re right, it’s my fault you got mixed up in all this. This is part of the reason your dad waited so long to contact you…there’s always someone watching and waiting to pounce on your weakness.”

“So why
did
he do it? Why now?”

He didn’t want to be having this conversation and yet she deserved an answer. He was caught in the middle
, torn between the man who was like a second father to him and the woman he knew without a doubt he was in love with.

“The reason I wasn’t here to watch you tonight was because I was at the hospital…with Johnny.”

“Why? What happened?”

“He’s sick,” he said
, and knew he couldn’t hide it from her any more. “He’s dying, Whisk,” he said softly.

“What?”

“He doesn’t have long.”

****

Sky blinked rapidly and forced away the threat of tears as bitterness tapped her on the shoulder, reminding her of all those nights she’d cried herself to sleep over Johnny Goddamn McKenna. He was doing it all over again. He was going to leave her all over again.
Why do it to her twice?

“So this whole thing was to somehow ease his conscience,” she said flatly.

“He just wanted to put things right.”

“He waited until he was dying to put things right?” she demanded, fighting the second bout of tears that night.
God damn it!
Until her father came back into her life she never cried and lately that’s all she seemed to be doing.

“You
know
why he stayed away.”

“All this time, you’ve known he was dying…and you didn’t think that would be something I might need to be aware of?”

Sawyer shrugged one big shoulder, holding her gaze steadily. “It wasn’t my call. Your dad made me promise not to say anything.”

Sky turned away from him, and dropped the spoon into the sink, bracing her hands on the edge of the bench as she tried to digest this latest news. “I need something stronger than coffee.” She moved across the room and opened a cupboard, pulling out a bottle, its amber liquid reaching halfway up its side. She grabbed two glasses and sloshed two fingers worth into each glass, passing Sawyer his and downing hers in one long swallow.

She felt Sawyer’s stunned gaze, as the burn of the liquor made its way down her throat and into her empty stomach, making her grimace.

“I didn’t have you pegged for a hard liquor kind of drinker.”

She bought the bottle of Scotch whisky to celebrate her first paycheck. It seemed fitting that it should be her namesake; the expensive, three-year malt whisky had been her father’s drink of choice, hence where she got her name. It tasted revolting, but the warm afterglow that always followed almost made the initial unpleasantness worth it.

When she thought back over the night
’s events, she put down the glass and reached for the bottle once more. It hadn’t dulled the pain. She splashed some more in her glass and downed it quickly, then for good measure decided on a little bit more.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sawyer said, wrapping his large hand around hers holding the bottle over her glass.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.” Was it her imagination, or was she already slurring her words? She was a hopeless drunk. It rarely took more than one glass of wine and she was tipsy.

“This isn’t going to make you feel better. Trust me.”

“Trust you,” Sky said with a sad laugh. “You know what? I actually
was
beginning to trust you…
and him
…and look what happened. You both lied to me. You’re selling guns, my father neglected to tell me he’s dying,” she said, waving an arm wildly, “and to top it all off, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Whis—”

“No. Just shut up, Sawyer. I don’t want to hear any more lies. I don’t
want
to feel anything for you—don’t you get it? I want someone like Caleb…someone whose lifestyle won’t get me attacked on the street…someone who puts me first, instead of some stupid club. Someone who doesn’t have a code to live by.”

A silence fell between them and Sky fought the urge to throw herself in Sawyer’s arms and let him hold her. She hated that every time she closed her eyes she could still see those men circling her, taunting her…

She pushed away from the bench and moved over toward the sofa.

“Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” she murmured, staring at the wall and feeling sick. The alcohol hadn’t helped, but she suspected it wasn’t completely to blame.

“Lay down out here then. I’m going to fix you something hot to drink.”

She didn’t have the energy to protest, and she didn’t have the strength to fight him. She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her holding a coffee cup and a putting a plate of toast on the coffee table.

“You need to eat something. It’ll make you feel better.”

Carefully, she eased herself into an upright position and reached for the mug. “What’s this?”

“Tea.”

“Where did you find that?”

“In the back of the cupboard. Drink it.” He sat down beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Seriously, I don’t remember ever buying tea. I have no idea how old this stuff could be…Bella probably bought it before I even moved in.”

“Just drink it. “

She took a tentative sip and was surprised to find that it wasn’t too bad. Sweet, but not terrible. He pushed the plate toward her and obediently, she took a slice. “I’d have never guessed you were so domesticated.”

A slight smile touched his lips, but didn’t reach his eyes. The toast tasted like cardboard as she thought about the words she’d thrown at him earlier. “I’m sorry…about what I said earlier.
”

“Don’t worry about it. Eat.”

It felt strange having him here with her like this, but not strange in a weird way. This was a side of Sawyer she hadn’t seen before. She managed a few more bits of toast before leaning back and closing her eyes. She felt Sawyer’s arm resting on the back of the lounge behind her. His hand gently rubbed her shoulder, lightly, in a comforting action, and it felt…nice. After a little while, he nudged her across so that she could lie across his chest, and she went without question. It felt nice to hear the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. His arm across her hip was secure. For the first time since the attack, she felt safe.

Chapter
19   

Sawyer knew he was only prolonging the agony by staying. After her drunken tirade in the kitchen, he knew she needed to blow off steam, but her words had been like a slap across the face. She didn’t want him—or any part of his life. And yet, she’d admitted that she felt something for him.

And that, right there, was the bitch of the whole thing. This attraction between them was destined to consume them. It didn’t care if either of them
wanted
the other…it was just…
there
.

He felt her breathing even out and leaned over to see her eyelids beginning to flutter shut. Carefully he eased out from under her and scooped her into his arms. “Shh,” he whispered when she opened her eyes and began to protest. “I’m just putting you in your bed.”

He heard her mumble something and couldn’t help but smile. The alcohol had obviously helped chase away the remnants of shock and she was finally able to sleep. The smile was wiped from his face though as he laid her gently on the bed and brushed the hair from her face.