Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (17 page)

But most of all, she remembered the day Pete came to the house to take them to the hospital, where, after what seemed like a lifetime, her father died on the operating table, confirming her mother’s worst fears and sending her over the edge. Her mother had to be sedated, and Pete took Bree home and held her all night, telling her he’d always be there for her and her mom. But her mom had never wanted Pete’s help and stopped answering his
calls after the funeral. Bree wasn’t sure why. Did her mother blame Pete for her father’s death, for her father’s refusal to give up his job? All Bree knew was that her mom didn’t want Bree to do anything without her. She refused to allow Bree to see Pete, and later, after he’d taken in Storm and his brothers, she didn’t want Bree to see the boys.

No matter what Bree did to try to help her mother, it wasn’t enough. After college, she’d taken on her father’s dream of making Red Hook a safer community. Her mother refused to be involved, and her hatred of Red Hook grew.

Bree wasn’t enough to keep her mother from sliding down the long, slippery slope of despair. Bree had never been enough to make anyone happy, to make anyone stay, and after what had happened with Storm last night, she knew she never would.

Bree slammed out of the house, dragged in a deep breath to push away the feeling of utter suffocation, and pulled the phone out of her purse. She texted Rocki on her way to the car to give her a heads-up and see if she needed anything, only to find out that she was still on the ferry. She tossed the bags and her purse on the passenger seat, started the car, and groaned. “Note to self: Check to see where someone is before asking them to stop by and check on Pete and Nicki. Shit.” She’d been gone over an hour. Lord only knew what kind of trouble Nicki and Storm could get into.

 * * *

Bree heard Nicki’s startled cry and ran into the apartment. The stench hit her before her feet slid out from under her, landing her on her ass on the wet linoleum. Nicki’s scream had Bree scrambling over the scattered
grocery bags and running to the hall. She opened the bathroom door and was bowled over by a wild animal. For the second time in two days Bree had the wind knocked out of her. All she saw was an animal with wild eyes and enormous teeth. She dragged in a breath and screamed, crab-crawling away. The next thing she knew, she was standing on the kitchen counter—still screaming. The animal—a huge rabid-looking wolf—ran straight for her. She eyed the distance between her and the top of the refrigerator. She might be able to make it.

“Bree, stop screaming.”

Storm. Of course he’d have something to do with this.

“He won’t hurt you.” Storm had the nerve to smirk at her as the wild animal jumped up, his front paws clawing the counter.

“Get that…that thing away from me.”

“Calm down. It’s just a puppy.”

“That’s not a puppy. It’s a rabid wolf.”

“He’s not foaming at the mouth; that’s just baby shampoo. D.O.G. isn’t a fan of baths, but he’s harmless.”

Nicki ran toward the animal and grabbed a big leather strap.

“Nicki, get away from him! He’s dangerous.”

Nicki shot Storm a questioning look, and Storm winked at her. “Try to get him back into the bathroom while I handle Bree.”

Bree watched as Nicki put her arm around the neck of the vicious animal and whispered in the ear that stood straight up, tugging him along with her.

“You let her touch that…that…thing?”

Storm had the nerve to smile. If she could reach the pan on the stove, she’d smack that smile right off his face and see how he’d handle her then. Storm stared at her.
His gaze started at her painted toenails and traveled the length of her legs. She should never have worn her white shorts, which, thanks to Storm, were soaking wet and probably see-through. His gaze continued past the short-sleeve filmy top she wore over her red tank, zeroing in on her breasts. Somehow they’d gotten wet too, probably from being knocked down by the wet wolf he called a puppy.

The air-conditioning kicked on, not doing her any favors. She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear, cold, or an adrenaline overload—but then, it could be from the way Storm stared at her.

“Come on.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you down.” When she didn’t move, he stepped forward and plucked her off the counter.

“Don’t touch me.” She dragged in a breath and almost gagged. “God, you stink!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t talk. You’re not smelling too pretty either.” He set her down. “I’ve got to finish giving the mutt a bath, and then I’ll clean up everything else. Don’t worry.”

Nicki let out a yelp and flew by them, holding on to the end of the leather strap for all she was worth. Grocery bags flew—their contents scattered and rolled as the dog lay down and bit into a one-pound package of beef bologna—holding it between his front paws and tearing the bag to shreds.

“He’s eating the food!”

Storm shrugged. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll clean it up. Come on, boy.” Storm knelt and, ever so smoothly, pulled the bag out of the dog’s mouth. “Let’s get you back into the tub. Nicki, you stay here with Bree and
pick up whatever food is salvageable—save that meat for after he’s finished with his bath as a treat, okay?”

Nicki started picking through the groceries while Bree stood there in shock.

“When Bree comes back around, find out if there are any ratty old towels I can use to dry him off when I’m done. And no matter what, don’t open the bathroom door. Understand?”

Bree opened her mouth to ream him. He held up his hand, stopping her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll replace all the food he’s ruined—just make a list, and I’ll clean it all up too. You know, why don’t you just go back to your place until we need you?”

“What?”

“Well, I’ve got to get him to a vet and have him all checked out, get his shots, and then buy him some puppy food and supplies.”

He couldn’t be serious. “You’re not planning on keeping this…this—”

“Puppy. He’s Nicki’s dog. She’s been taking care of him since before Pop’s heart attack.”

“No she hasn’t—” Bree looked at Nicki who was suddenly grinding her sneaker into the wet, dirty carpet.

“All those times you went missing, you were with this—”

Nicki looked at Storm, who put a hand on her shoulder, while the other firmly held the leather strap constraining the dog lapping up the broken eggs. “His name is D.O.G., and he’s real nice, Bree. Storm promised he wouldn’t take him to the pound.”

She really wanted to kill Storm now. “He did, did he? Well, we’ll just have to talk to Pete about this.”

Storm gave the back of Nicki’s neck an affectionate
squeeze and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about Pop. He’s already on board.” He gave the strap a tug, forcing the dog to sit, and then picked up the huge dog with all the gentleness he’d used when he held her just last night—right before he stomped all over her heart. No, that last phrase needed some serious editing; she wouldn’t give Storm that much power. She settled on a reworded phrase: before he’d tap-danced on her feelings. Yes, that was better. She stood there, unable to move, watching Storm laugh as the dog licked his ear and rested his head on Storm’s shoulder. She almost felt sorry for the poor, stupid mutt; he was in for one hell of a disappointment, and from the look of trust and hero worship Bree saw in Nicki’s eyes, the puppy wouldn’t be Storm’s only victim.

Rocki raised her hand to knock on Pete’s apartment door just as a disheveled Bree stepped into the hallway and slammed it behind her. Bree looked like a drowned rat and smelled twice as bad. “What the hell happened to you?”

Bree shook her head as if she couldn’t speak. She looked as if she were about to explode.

Rocki wondered if it would be in tears or temper. The way her eyes were filling, maybe both. She was tempted to give Bree a hug—she looked as if she could use one, but the stink permeating the air had her taking a step back. “I’ll give you a hug after you take a shower.”

Bree unlocked the door to her apartment, and Rocki followed her in, barely making it through before Bree slammed that door too. Rocki covered her nose and mouth with her hand. “What is that smell?”

“Wet mutt.”

“I’ve smelled wet dogs before, but never like this. Is it part skunk?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Rocki set her Coach bag down on the table. “Storm or the dog?”

“Both.”

“Why don’t you get a shower while I open the windows to air the place out, and then you can tell me all about it?”

Bree pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and spun around—the scent swirling through the apartment had Rocki pushing open a window. “Who does he think is going to take care of that…that beast after he flies back to the Godzone? Isn’t that just like him? He comes here, makes a mess of everything, and leaves.”

Rocki opened the bifold doors to the closet that held Bree’s washer, dryer, and cleaning supplies. “Do you have any Febreze in here?” She slid cleaning products around, looking for the familiar blue spray bottle. Once Rocki’s brothers hit their teenage years, she should have bought stock in the company. It was the only way she was able to live in the same apartment with them. She hoped it worked as well on dog stink as on boy stink.

“I can’t believe Pete is going to allow this.” Bree pulled off the shirt she wore over her tank top and tossed it in the washer. “Pete can’t walk up the steps by himself or take care of Nicki; how is he supposed to handle a hundred-pound dog?”

Rocki covered her nose and mouth again to face Bree. “I’ll run down to the corner and buy a bottle of Febreze—or six.”

“Nicki looks at him as if he walked on water.”

“The dog?”

“No, Storm. He’s been here two days, and he’s already taught her how to drive and given her a puppy. The next thing you know, he’s going to buy her a damn pony. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“Storm taught Nicki to drive? She’s only ten.”

“That’s what I said.” Bree went into the bathroom.

Rocki was thankful to hear the shower starting. “Why do you need to compete with Storm?”

“I love her. It’s taken me three months to get her to trust me; he walks in and, in two days, he’s stolen her heart.”

“Nicki’s heart is big enough to love you both.”

“He’s going to leave, and then what is she going to do?”

“Whose heart are you concerned about, Nicki’s or yours?”

Rocki turned toward the kitchen; she didn’t need to hear the answer to that one. She knew it as well as her own name. Bree, on the other hand, was the queen of denial. “Toss your other clothes into the hall, and I’ll start the wash.” Rocki searched through Bree’s kitchen drawer where she kept her cooking utensils and wrapped her hand around the plastic-covered handle of a pair of barbecue tongs, held them up in the air, and snapped them together. “Bingo.” There was no way she was going to touch those smelly, wet clothes.

After Rocki picked up Bree’s clothes and had the wash going, she went back to Pete’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Is it safe to come in?”

Nicki opened the door a crack. “I don’t know. Storm is using Bree’s hair dryer in the bathroom. I’m not sure if it’s for him or D.O.G. I’m cleaning up what’s left of the groceries, but from the way Bree looked, I don’t think anyone is safe, especially not me.”

Rocki did her best to smile, even though the scent of the place was coming through the open door. The last thing she wanted to do was go into the stinky apartment. Sometimes this best-friend crap really sucked. She dragged in a deep breath of fresh air and stepped inside.
After a look at the dripping Nicki, Rocki figured Nicki needed the same treatment Bree got. “Don’t worry about Bree—she’s young; she’ll get over it.” Eventually…maybe. Her gaze swept the apartment. The entire place was covered with what looked like splattered mud. “I just threw Bree’s clothes in the wash. She’s in the shower now. Since your bathroom is occupied, why don’t you go grab some fresh clothes and run over to Bree’s so you can shower after she gets out, and we’ll toss your clothes in with hers? How’s that sound?”

Nicki pulled her wet top away from her skin and shrugged. “I don’t think Bree wants to see me right now. Or ever.”

Poor kid. “I think you’re wrong. Come on.” Bree was so gonna owe her for this one. Rocki grabbed Nicki’s dirty hand in hers, stepped over what was left of the mess, and dragged Nicki to her bedroom. “Let’s pick out your clothes and get back to Bree’s before the prewash cycle ends.”

Nicki looked up at her, her brows all scrunched together. “You sure?”

“Positive. Here, I’ll get the clothes so you don’t dirty them. Just tell me what you want to wear.”

Nicki pointed out an outfit that reminded Rocki that the poor girl needed some real fashion advice, but now was not the time. She stopped outside the bathroom door. “Storm?” She yelled through the door.

The hair dryer turned off. “Yeah?”

“It’s Rocki. I’m taking Nicki over to Bree’s to get cleaned up.”

“Okay. Send her back when she’s done.”

Nicki still didn’t look comfortable with the idea, so Rocki rested her hand on the base of Nicki’s neck and
walked her back to Bree’s place. She grabbed a fresh towel from the linen closet and knocked on the bathroom door. “Bree? I brought Nicki over to get cleaned up. Are you finished?”

The door opened, and Bree stepped out in a towel. She took one look at Nicki and smiled.

Rocki pushed Nicki toward the bathroom. “Your turn, Nicki. Take your clothes off and jump into the shower, or do you want to take a bath?”

Nicki kicked off her shoes. “No, I think I’ve had enough of baths for a while. I’ll just get in the shower.” She finally looked at Bree, her head tilted with uncertainty. “You sure you don’t mind? You were awful mad.”

“Nicki, I wasn’t mad at you, but even if I was, you’re always welcome here. I love you; that doesn’t stop when I get mad. Do you stop loving me when you’re mad at me?”

“No, I guess not.”

Rocki rolled her eyes. “Okay, you two, enough of the syrupy-sweet stuff. Bree, get the kid out of those clothes so I can put them in the wash—she’s stinking up the joint.”