Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) (23 page)

Pulling my binoculars out, I surveyed the parking lot first before moving them to focus on apartment 6B.

George Lucas Jones was a twenty-six-year-old man who lived on disability and had been since he was in his late teens.

He’d moved back to Uncertain a year ago after living near Dallas for seven years.

Idly, I wondered what brought him back here and what made him leave in the first place, but that thought flew out the proverbial window when the sound of tailpipes started to filter through the quiet streets.

Slowly, one by one, every single one of the members of The Uncertain Saints came to a stop directly behind me.

“Got anything?” Peek asked.

Peek wasn’t an active member of the armed forces, but he had a shit load of experience having served in Desert Storm.

He was active Army for over thirty-years before he retired to open his shop, and I would trust him with my life.

Something I often did.

“Not a damn thing,” I murmured, handing over the binoculars.

He took them and scanned the parking lot before handing them back.

I took the time to scan the faces behind me.

Mig. Griffin. Wolf. Peek. Core. Ridley.

Six of the best men I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“Ready when you are,” Ridley took off his badge and slipped on his cut.

He didn’t get to wear his cut as often as the rest of us since he actually had to be in uniform while he worked. And with him working five days a week, it was rare that I saw him with it on during the daylight hours.

“Give us the details, then you three take the back,” Peek pointed at Wolf, Core, and Ridley. “And the rest of us will take the front.”

I gave them an abbreviated version of the information that Rhea was able to pull up.

“So, he’s twenty-six. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. And he’s disabled. But the motherfucker can apparently wield a gun. Lovely,” Griffin grumbled darkly upon hearing my words.

I agreed with him.

If the man was able to shoot me with almost professional precision, then I wondered if he was really even disabled at all.

“What’s his disability?” Ridley asked as he smoothed his hair back from his face with one hand.

I pulled out the DMV results that Rhea procured for me and read.

“Says he’s got a limited range of motion due to skin lesions,” I answered.

My gut started screaming with something I couldn’t quite understand, but Wolf interrupted that thought before it could fully take form.

“Well, let’s do this. I only have daycare for another four hours,” Wolf muttered.

We all double checked our guns, making sure that they were fully loaded before we split into the two groups Peek had assigned us to.

We split off at the base of the apartment building, one group going up the stairs to the front door, and the others going to the back door.

I knew from the information I’d been able to pull up while waiting that the apartment that George lived in was a two bedroom, one bath. There was a fire escape at the back that the others could use to access the back balcony, so if he felt threatened and tried to escape that way, they’d be there to intercept him.

I knocked, hoping he’d actually answer the door.

And he did.

He threw the door open like he didn’t have a care in the world.

However, the moment he saw me, he froze.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he tried to slam the door.

I stopped it with a hand, freezing the door before it could move more than six inches.

“I’m guessing you know me,” I observed.

He sneered.

“Yeah, I fucking know you,” he agreed.

My brows rose.

“Well then, enlighten me as to why you think it’s okay to shoot at people holding little kids?” I hissed, moving forward.

He didn’t bother to resist.

He let me put him into cuffs, then refused to say another word as the small apartment filled up with Uncertain Saints.

I sat down and played the staring game with him until I finally saw him twitch.

“Why her?” I asked. “You could’ve gone for anyone in the bar,” I hissed, getting as close as the table would allow me to. “You’re lucky nothing happened to her. She’s mine and forever will be.”

He snarled at me.

“She was mine first,” he spat.

I reeled back.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

He smiled, the skin around his mouth that wasn’t burned turning up to a sickening sneer.

“She was mine. My first. I will always be with her. She was pregnant with my kid,” he sneered. “How’s it feel to have my castoffs?”

Then everything clicked into place, making a sickening sort of sense.

The man was none other than Jet Jones, Tasha’s teenage boyfriend who she thought was dead.

My stomach roiled at the idea of her having to hear that her ex-boyfriend wasn’t dead after all.

Holy
shit
.

Ridley’s fellow officers showed up shortly after that, making my role in the game mute.

Which was good, because my head was a fuckin’ mess.

A huge, stinking, pile of shitty mess.

“What can I help you with, son?” Gustavo, Tasha’s father, asked.

I swallowed.

“Do you…I need to talk to you,” my voice cracked.

He looked almost reluctant, but he gave in and opened the door, being sure to keep some distance between me and him.

“You here to tell me why my girl hasn’t so much as mentioned your name in three weeks?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I looked at Esme, Tasha’s mother, out on the back porch.

She was watering her plants, not keeping the glare out of her eyes as she pinned me with a look that promised retribution.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I finally stated.

He walked to the kitchen, stopping at a fridge that was in the hallway between the family room and the kitchen, to pull out two beers before he stopped at the kitchen table.

“Have a seat,” he invited.

I did, taking a seat at the one closest to the window before I rubbed my hands down my face.

I was tired.

Today had been the longest day I’d ever experienced, and I still didn’t know what to do.

I’d contemplated for hours what I was going to do before I finally decided to come talk to Tasha’s parents.

“Start at the beginning,” he demanded.

So I did.

I’d told him everything I knew about Tasha’s stalker that I had, repeating some of the parts since I’d already told him the very beginning.

“Okay,” Gustavo pinned me with a stare. “What’s new?”

Not knowing how to ease into this, I just laid it all out.

“Today I got information that pointed to a man named George Lucas Jones as Tasha’s stalker and the man responsible for shooting me. My sister was able to dig up quite a bit of information,” I started.

His face went blank the moment I’d said that name, but I didn’t stop the explanation.

“So we went in, questioned the man, and found out that the man responsible for shooting me in the leg was this George Lucas, which is an alias for Jet Lucas. Tasha’s Jet Lucas,” I finished. “We found the rifle at the scene. Pictures of Tasha. So
many
pictures,” I swallowed. “Maps of where she went. Pictures of me. Anything and everything you could imagine. Hell, he even had some of her clothes.”

He looked at me blankly.

I waited for it to penetrate, and when it did, I was glad I was sitting down seeing as he picked up his beer, then launched it at the window above my head.

Glass shattered, but I didn’t flinch, waiting patiently for him to calm down.

None of this was rational.

I wasn’t expecting rational Gustavo.

I was expecting the ‘father’ Gustavo. The man who watched his little girl suffer through some horrible years.

“Gus,” Esme cried, running into the room at a half sprint. “What’s going on?”

Gustavo put his hands on top of his head and bent at the waist, taking deep pulls of air as he tried to calm down.

Not knowing what else to do, I turned to Esme, then explained the same thing over again.

She was crying by the time I was finished.

“No,” she croaked.

I nodded.

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “Not Jet. He would never do that.”

I was expecting that from both Tasha’s parents and Tasha.

Which was why I’d attempted to get a copy of a death certificate, and of course, I came up empty.

Then I’d taken pictures. Statements. And anything that would help prove that Jet really was alive, short of taking them to him.

“She’s going to break,” Gustavo replied gruffly.

I handed my phone to Esme, then turned to Gustavo.

“No. She won’t. Because I’m here. I’ll never leave her. And I’ll make sure she’s the happiest woman on Earth,” I insisted. “With your permission, I want to ask her to marry me.”

“You can’t do that right now. She’ll think you’re doing it out of pity,” Esme said softly.

I nodded. “I know.

“Which is why I’m telling y’all this. I wanted to be the one to tell her…but the more I got to thinking, the more I realized that maybe coming from someone she trusts right now might be best.”

“That’s why you left her alone all this time?” Gustavo guessed.

I nodded solemnly.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“You’ll never leave her like that again?”

I shook my head. “No. Never,” I promised fiercely.

He sighed.

“If you hurt her again, I’ll kick your ass. I’ll shove my foot so far down your throat that you’ll feel my balls on your chin,” he insisted.

I blinked, surprised by the pure surety in his voice.

“I’ll never hurt her. At least not purposefully,” I promised.

“You better not. Or I swear to Christ.”

“You’ll have to win her back. My girl holds a mean grudge,” Esme swore.

I grinned. “Oh, that I know all too well. But, trust me, I’ll get in there,” I promised. “But…will you call me and tell me how she takes it?” I asked.

At their nod, I continued.

“He’s in custody and won’t be released on bond due to the possibility of him being a flight risk,” I cleared my throat. “I would appreciate it if you kept her with you tonight.”

“We will. Promise.”

Gustavo

“It’s true,” I promised my little girl.

Tasha looked up confusion and devastation swimming in her tear-filled eyes.

“You’re lying,” she said again.

I shook my head.

“I wish I was. But I’m not. I even called The Jones’. They confirmed that it was all a ruse to break y’all up,” I explained. “They said that he was suicidal, and they thought it was best for him to be involuntarily admitted into a treatment facility. He wasn’t cleared for discharge until about a year ago. Once he was discharged, his parents never saw him again.”

She moaned.

“Why?” she cried.

I wrapped my arms around her front, and Esme cuddled close to her side.

“I wish I knew, baby,” I whispered into her hair. “I wish I knew.”

“How’d you find out?” she whispered so softly that I wasn’t sure that I heard her correctly.

“Casten.”

She trembled at the mention of his name.

“You’re sure?” she pushed.

“I’m sure,” I reaffirmed.

She started to shake as sobs wracked her body, and I made a promise to myself that I would never, ever allow this to happen to her again.

Not my baby.

Casten better be careful, because I was going to watch every step he made.

And God help him if he fucked up.

I can’t adult today.

-T-shirt

Tasha

I stared at the picture on my screen.

It was a picture of Casten and me.

A selfie that I’d practically forced him to take.

I was on the back of his bike with my arms up over his shoulders holding the phone out in front of both of our faces.

He had a scowl on his face, but I could read his gray, expressive eyes.

And they were anything but upset.

They were happy.

“Do you want to go out to eat breakfast with me and Alison in the morning?” my sister asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” I replied, setting the phone down to turn to my sister. “You ready to go?”

She nodded.

“Yep. I’m ready. This should be a lot of fun,” she whispered, looking down at her outfit.

She was in much the same as me.

Short black shorts, black sports bra, and black racerback tank.

We were going to play mud volleyball for the Breast Cancer Awareness benefit that The Uncertain Saints were putting on.

The volleyball game had been my offering to the benefit, before Casten had officially broken up with me.

But it was for a good cause so there was no way that I wouldn’t go through with it, even though I was still hurting.

I wasn’t hurting for the same reasons as I was when I left Casten in that hospital room, though.

I was hurting because he was staying away from me because he thought it’s what I needed after learning the truth about Jet.

Although Jet had been a huge part of my life when I was a younger, I was no longer that girl. I was a grown woman.

One who was in love with Casten.

I wasn’t in love with Jet anymore and never would be again. My whole heart now belonged to a stubborn man who refused to think I was over whatever he thought I needed to get over.

Although, I was getting this information second hand, seeing as Casten had still yet to talk to me.

It’d been a little over two weeks since he’d found Jet.

Two weeks since Jet had been put in jail for attempting to kill not only Casten, but also the little three-year-old girl Casten had been holding. Jet was looking at felony charges.

He hadn’t been granted bail, and I hadn’t bothered to go see him yet, even though my sister thought I should.

I wasn’t saying that I wasn’t going, either. I just wasn’t going without Casten at my side.

“Earth to Tasha!” my sister clapped, waving her hand in front of my face.

I blinked, realizing that I’d started looking off into space again.