Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (30 page)

“Who's Donny?”

“A shithead,” Tate said, his voice sharpening slightly. “We don't talk anymore.”

“Because of a girl?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” he said, the old memories floating to the surface and pissing him off. Donny'd had his comeuppance twice over, but it still made Tate furious to think of what he did to Gennifer. “He fucked with my sister, so we fucked him up.”

“Oh,” she said lightly.

“I only ever came here by myself,” he said, staring down past her at the inky black Hudson River. He could see chunks of white ice on the surface.

“So this is your special place,” she said, turning her face toward his. He cocked his head to look at her. The bright lights of the bridge cast an faint orange glow all around them and he could barely make out her features in the lowlight.

“I always wanted to bring a girl here, though,” he admitted lightly, because it was hard to say it out loud. He'd been lonely. His whole life, he'd been lonely. Even surrounded by family, he'd been alone. Mostly, it had been his choice. But in the past few days, he'd learned that if he had that choice to make now, he wouldn't choose to be alone, that was for damn sure. Life was better when you had someone waiting at home for you, when you had someone to laugh with and share your day with. He'd learned that because of Shay, and he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that. “You're cold,” he said, when she shivered against him. She let out a slow breath, like she wanted to say something, but then she squeezed his arm. “Let's go.”

She nodded and he dropped his arms from around her. She grabbed his hand and he lead her out of the park, careful to walk slow through the accumulating snow. The white blanket on the ground made it easier to find their way out and he didn't bother with the flashlight. She took a few more sips of the wine and then tossed the bottle in the garbage at the entrance of the park while he unlocked the car and turned on the engine. Then she slid into the passenger's seat and slammed the door behind her, rubbing her hands together in front of the heat pouring out of the dashboard vent.

“Is this a city car?” she asked, randomly. “It looks like the boring kind of car that cops always drive.” He looked around at the clean but plain black interior and shrugged. She was right, he supposed. The car was nondescript and had a decent engine. That was all that really mattered. “What kind of car would you have if you could choose?” she said, not waiting for him to answer. He stared at her, trying to figure out what she was trying to get at. He honestly didn't care what kind of car he drove around in. As long as it got him from point A to point B, he had no preference.

“This one's fine,” he said with a shrug.

“Just wondering,” she said, sitting back in her seat. He shifted into drive and pulled carefully out of the cul de sac, the fresh snow crunching under his tires. He drove slowly, taking his time, partially because of the slippery road and partially because he didn't want to get her home any sooner than he had to. “So you don't have a dream car? Like, if Steve McQueen's Mustang from Bullitt was suddenly available and you could have it, would you want it?”

“Would you?” he asked, slowing to a stop at a red light. “Because if you wanted it, I would get it for you.”

“No,” she murmured, playing with her seatbelt. “I wouldn't want a Mustang.”

“Come home with me,” he said, as they neared the street he would turn down to head toward his apartment. “I'll drive you to work in the morning.”

“I told Gina I would be home tonight,” she said, dropping her head back against the headrest. He sighed, wondering what was going on in her mind. He'd asked her point blank if there was someone else and she'd said no. She'd seemed sincere. He wanted to believe her. He'd never been the jealous type before and he'd never been possessive over a woman. But the thought of Shay wanting someone else other than him did something strange to him. The thought of Shay letting someone else touch her, or fuck her... his brain short-circuited before he could even imagine it. But she didn't seem to want him anymore, that was for sure.

“What did I do?” he asked, before he could stop himself. “Tell me what I did and I'll fix it.” She didn't answer him right away and he gripped the steering wheel, waiting for her response. When none came, he glanced over at her and found her fast asleep. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. She looked so peaceful that he didn't bother waking her. He knew she was probably dead tired, so he let it go. Driving silently through the snowy streets, he did exactly what she wanted.

He took her home.

***

It was hard to pretend.

It was hard to go about her day and pretend that a bomb wasn't about to explode in her lap. Gina had no idea what was about to go down and it was killing Shay to not warn her. But she had promised Sam she wouldn't tell. And, quite honestly, she wasn't sure that Gina would even agree to meet him. She didn't know why she had, especially since she hadn't gotten any damn answers for her trouble.

Pressing her palm against her forehead,  she squinted her eyes closed, feeling a headache coming on. The most sleep she'd gotten in three days was in the front seat of Tate's car. When he'd driven her home from the park, the car had been so warm and the seat had been so comfortable that she'd gotten drowsy almost the minute she sat down. It felt good to be beside him as he drove, too, strangely. It felt safe because she trusted him. Then before she'd known what was happening, she was waking up beside him outside of Gina's apartment building. The car was idling and she was so comfortable she didn't want to move. His hand was on her thigh and she opened her eyes and he was looking at her and for a second she thought she was in his apartment and in his bed.

That's where she wished she was, anyway. She missed him. Even though he was sitting right next to her and touching her, she missed him. She missed his big bed and his big kitchen and his big dick. She missed it all. Being around him again just reminded her of all the things she was missing. She missed the feeling that things were actually getting better instead of worse. As it was, her feelings and her loyalties were all fucked up. And, as usual, her father was to blame.

As 6:00 p.m. rolled around,  the stylists started to drift out the door and a heavy feeling of dread settled in Shay's stomach. She knew it was almost time, but she wasn't ready for it. Her aunt was pissed at her father for so many reasons and they were valid. Shay had her own valid reasons to be pissed as well. But the fact of the matter was that Sam had come back. He was family and family stood together. That was what she'd always been taught. Her grandmother, when she'd been alive, had been adamant that the Spears family stick together. Sam had been the one to break that bond, not her and not Gina. And yet, somehow it was up to her to try and repair it.

“Baby, wake up,” Tate'd said, his big hand warm on her thigh. She moaned and leaned toward him, not wanting to wake up.

“I'm so tired,” she'd mumbled, closing her eyes again. She'd felt his fingers lightly brushing  her cheek, running a trail down to her neck.

“You want me to carry you upstairs?” he'd asked. “Because I will.”

“Of course you would,” she'd whispered, smiling in spite of herself. “Tate?”

“What, baby?”

“Thank you,” she'd said. “For taking me out. I had a good time.” He traced her jaw with his fingertips and she leaned into him.

“But it didn't change anything,” he'd said and she'd opened her eyes just as he leaned in and kissed her lightly. She felt herself melt as he sucked on her lower lip. She'd suddenly felt so weak. If he'd asked, she would've gone home with him and said screw everything else. She would've buried herself in his bed and not come out for days. She would have done anything for him in that moment. But it didn't last. “What's going on?” he'd asked, his warm, wine-sweetened breath against her lips. “Is there something you want to tell me?” And just like that, reality had come crashing back in and she'd pulled away from his kiss.

“No,” she'd lied.

He hadn't believed her, she was sure of it. But he'd walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye like he did. She felt terrible for lying to him but it was a necessary evil. She had no intentions of lying to him forever; she was going to wait for her father to leave and give him a decent enough head start. Then she would tell Tate. Unfortunately, that meant she had to come up with something that would keep him from figuring it out. He was too damn smart and too damn observant, though. If she could just get through the holidays, she would be okay.

At least that's what she told herself.

“Are you going to head out?” Gina asked, surprising Shay out of her thoughts. Shay turned to look at her aunt, who was standing in the doorway of the office. Shay couldn't help but glance past her into the office, at the the corner of the desk that was visible. “I can close up,” Gina offered, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Shay said, tearing her eyes away from the desk and shoving the memories of what had happened on it to the back of her mind.

“About that cop?” Gina asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Shay shook her head, wishing it were as simple as that. Gina knew about Tate now, so at least that was one last secret she had to worry about. Soon enough, she would know about the biggest one.

“What is wrong with you?” Gina asked. “You've been acting out of it for days.” She walked further into the salon and slumped on one of the stylist's chairs. “Are you having some kind of crisis?”

“Crisis?” Shay asked, checking the time on her phone. 6:15 p.m.

“When I turned twenty-five, I remember I started freaking out. Wondering what I was going to do with myself and my life.”

“Really?” Shay said, putting her attention back on her aunt. “And how did you deal with it?”

“Well, I got a divorce and got a girlfriend, for starters,” Gina said, then laughed loudly at her own joke. Shay rolled her eyes at how easy Gina made it sound. Like changing your life that drastically was so simple and easy. She wished it was. “We should all go out to dinner,” Gina said.

“Now?” Shay asked, distracted.

“No, not now. With your cop. We should all go out to dinner. You, me, him and Thalia. That'd be a trip,” Gina said, smiling wickedly. “Does he like soul food? Fried chicken and collard greens?”

“Who doesn't?” Shay stood and threw up her hands in frustration. Her stomach was in knots and she just had to let the cat out of the bag. She couldn't take one more second of pretending that she didn't want to scream as loud as possible and rip out her own hair. “Gina, I have to tell you something.”

“Oh God,” Gina said, sitting upright in her seat, her eyes widening. “You're pregnant, aren't you?”

“What? No!” Shay said, a laugh bubbling up before she could stop it. She doubled over and grabbed her stomach, not able to control the hysterical laugh that forced its way out. The thought of being pregnant on top of everything else... she would probably just run screaming back to Bedford and ask them to lock her up and throw away the key.

“Well, spit it out already,” Gina said, fanning her face like she was relieved.

“I would if you would give me a chance to talk!” Shay exclaimed.

“So talk! Damn, girl.” Gina looked at her expectantly and Shay took a deep breath and opened her mouth, ready to finally get it all out.

Then a loud knock on the door startled the words right out of her.

“We're closed!” Gina yelled loudly enough for the dark figure outside the door to hear.

“It's Sam,” Shay said, saying the name for the first time in so long.

“Sam?” Gina furrowed her brows and then Shay watched the realization dawn on her. “
No
,” she whispered.

“He showed up on my birthday.” Shay bit down on her cheek, immediately feeling like shit that she hadn't told her aunt sooner. “I told him to come see you tonight.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gina said, her face a mixture of anger and shock and something else, something deeper. Shay could see the glisten of tears in her aunt's eyes and she had to look away. She wasn't going to cry, no matter what.

“I wish I was,” Shay said, then turned and went to the door. She unlocked it and cracked it open, the cold air hitting her in the face like a slap.

“Hey there, baby girl,” Sam said, a cloud of cigarette smoke mingling with the night air around his head.

“Put that cigarette out,” she said, instantly annoyed at him. He smelled like he'd been drinking and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He took another quick puff and then tossed the butt out into the street. Shay took a step back and opened the door wider, allowing him entrance into the salon.  He strolled in like he owned the place, looking around and smiling a toothy grin.

“Looks real good in here. Real legit,” he said, his voice booming and filling up the small shop. “You done good, sister.” He turned to Gina, who was staring at him in a way that Shay could completely relate to. The first time she'd seen him, the mixture of emotions was paralyzing. She'd wanted to smack him, curse him out, and hug him hard all at the same time. Gina looked like she was going through the same range at that very second.

“What are you doing here?” Gina said, her voice shaking. Shay bit her cheek again, trying to keep herself from crumbling. To see her aunt so shaken hit her hard. She hadn't seen Gina in such a state since Shay's prison sentencing, when they'd given her only niece six years in prison.