Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) (5 page)

But she was smart, and nodded her head instead.

I got out, and her car slowly crept away until she disappeared over the crest of a hill.

I walked back to the house, not surprised that Dante hadn’t stopped loading the car up.

He was here for his job, and he was getting the car, even if I wasn’t there to help.

Something I respected him for.

“Trouble?” I heard as I passed him in the shadows.

“Fuck yeah,” I mumbled, moving around the back again.

This time I heard shuffling in the kitchen, and looked up to see a young girl looking into the main room from the kitchen, fear and anxiety etched clearly on her face.

I tapped on the window, gaining her attention, and urged her outside.

She recognized me immediately.

I got that a lot, though.

My looks were hard to forget, I was told.

“Go around to the big tree on the side of the house and wait for me,” I commanded softly.

She nodded, fear clogging her throat. “My sister’s in there; she’s not bad, so please, don’t hurt her.”

I nodded. “I’m not here for your sister. I’m here for a boy. Name’s Arthur James.”

She nodded. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend.”

I grunted. “Go.”

She went. Smart girl.

The apprehension was laughably easy, seeing as the boy and the girl’s sister were in the process of fucking.

As were about fifteen other people in the room.

Arthur was easy to spot.

He still looked exactly like he did in his mug shot, with that stupid gauge in his ear that was probably ten centimeters in diameter and that platinum blonde hair that could be seen from a mile away.

He was pumping away into the girl, and I grabbed him up by way of my hand around his neck and yanked him backwards, causing him to scream in surprise.

I had him handcuffed and was shuffling him out of the house within twenty seconds.

Aside from the girl, the others didn’t even notice, and I wondered what type of drugs they were on that they didn’t care that someone was being apprehended ten feet away from them.

“Carly,” I called once I left the house.

Carly came around the corner with a look of horror on her face when she saw who I had in handcuffs. Then she quickly looked away from him as she took in his state of undress.

I hadn’t bothered to help him into his clothes.

It was cold out, and I had a feeling his wet dick would do him no favors out here.

Did I care?

Fuck no.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Your ride’s up the street.”

She nodded, following on the other side of me, seeing as Arthur was busy cursing her.

“Don’t worry,” I patted his head after one of Arthur’s more colorful curses. “He won’t hurt you. He’s going away for a couple of years.”

She nodded as we passed Dante finishing up; I nodded at him as I passed.

He gave me a weird look at seeing the girl, but let me do my job anyway.

Tasha spotted us after another few minutes of walking, and she looked at me with wide eyes before turning to Carly.

“Let’s go, honey,” she said.

Carly hurried in front of us and got into Tasha’s car.

And without another word, she left, not sparing me, nor Arthur, another glance.

“I’m going to kill her. Fuck her sister up, too,” Arthur snarled as he watched the car pass.

I laughed.

“You won’t have time. Your ass will be in the process of being fucked,” I told him.

And I wasn’t lying.

He’d fucked his girlfriend, a girl of only fifteen, and he’d been charged with statutory rape. Twice.

He’d be having a fun few years, because inmates didn’t take too kindly to those who committed a sex crime against a child, and the crimes you had committed wouldn’t stay secret for long in a place like Huntsville Penitentiary.

As it turned out, though, Tasha didn’t need to be threatened by Arthur the psycho. She was already on another psycho’s radar…I just didn’t know it yet.

If you want to be a crazy bitch, be a crazy bitch. They’re going to say you were whether you were or you weren’t. Might as well give them a show.

-Casten’s words of wisdom

Tasha

I called myself all kinds of a fool two days later as I walked through what I thought was Casten’s front lawn.

He didn’t have a walkway, and his driveway was filled to the brim with cars and bikes.

He was having a party…or so it appeared.

I’d gotten an email from him earlier this morning.

In typical Casten fashion, it had been short and sweet.

Come to my house today at seven. Saint party. Don’t be late.

-C

I probably wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t gotten confirmation from my sister that Casten was, in fact, having a party and wasn’t going to use this as an opportunity to yell at me.

Again.

Apparently, going to pick up one of my girls in a bad part of town wasn’t something I was allowed to do, according to my self-appointed keeper, Mr. Hard Ass Casten.

Evidently, what I should have done, was call him.

And now, I can’t call him.

The bastard must have changed his number and now has it blocked every time he calls me.

All the calls that I got on my cell phone that showed up as
unknown,
I no longer answered, so, I guess that’s why he’d decided to send an email.

I passed by my sister’s car, wondering why she’d brought it when my mom had her baby, Vitaly.

I’d just come from there and, apparently, Mom had had Vitaly since earlier in the day, and tonight would be the first time the baby would stay over with her for the entire night.

Curious to see what kind of party was going on that they didn’t want to bring kids to, I’d reluctantly come, bearing four Blooming Onions from Outback Steakhouse.

Why I’d gotten them, I didn’t know. I didn’t have time to make anything, and my mother had always taught me not to show up at a party empty handed.

So I moved up the lawn, skirting the motorcycles here and there that didn’t have room to park in the driveway, and knocked on the front door.

I assumed, since there were so many people here, that Casten wouldn’t be the one to answer the door.

I’d been wrong.

He did answer.

“Hey,” I said, startled to see him.

He didn’t even smile, he just moved back so I could come in.

My eyes moved down to the dog that stood vigil at Casten’s back.

“Your dog’s…cute,” I lied.

She wasn’t cute.

In fact, she was definitely in need of some tender love and care. Maybe a pretty collar.

She looked like she’d been maimed…or worse. I wasn’t really sure what had happened to her, but it was obvious some sort of trauma had occurred. One of her ears were missing. Hair was gone off of most of her head. One eye was gone, and her tail was kinked.

Casten didn’t say anything.

So I followed behind him, shutting the door myself and freezing in the entryway at the sheer number of people that were shoved into his house.

Even more spilled out onto the deck that overlooked the river.

Casten had a breathtaking view. In fact, it was so beautiful that I would’ve loved to live in this house.

Casten’s dog followed behind him as he weaved his way out to the back porch, but I spotted Mig and Annie in the kitchen.

So I took the easier route and weaved through people until I stood at Mig’s side.

“Hey,” I handed him the bag.

Relieved of my burden, I went to my sister and hugged her.

“I can’t believe you made me come to this,” I grumbled as Mig opened the bag I gave him.

Mig’s eyes went wide as he pulled out the first large box.

“What is this?” He sniffed deeply as he opened it.

“A Bloomin’ Onion,” I divulged.

“Fuck yeah,” Mig growled. “It takes forever for the boys to get dinner going. This’ll be a nice appetizer.”

A man that I didn’t know leaned over to steal a piece, and Mig growled at him.

“Go get your own fuckin’ food,” he hissed.

The man backed away with a laugh.

“Alright, Mig. Sorry, man,” the man apologized as he went back to the wall that he was leaning against.

“I brought four of them,” I whispered.

Mig’s eyes moved to catch mine. “I know. I don’t want to share with him, though. I could eat one of these by myself.”

He could, too.

That man could seriously put away some food. Something I’d witnessed multiple times now.

Then again, all of the Uncertain Saints could.

It was like their bodies didn’t store fat like normal human beings.

They all drank beer and ate badly but still had bodies of gods.

I ate badly, I couldn’t fit into my clothes the next morning.

I’m sure if I did both, I’d have to
roll
myself out of bed in the morning.

“He’s cranky,” Annie gestured to Mig.

“Why?” I took the bottle she was holding out to me.

I cracked the lid as I listened to the story that she started, but Mig finished.

“Vitaly’s mother sent another letter,” Annie started.

I winced.

“But she also sent her fuckin’ drug addicted mother a letter, as well, telling her that I wasn’t bringing the baby up to see her. So the mother’s now hounding us as well,” Mig growled before shoving a large crunchy onion petal into his mouth.

I winced.

Annie and Mig had gotten together under complicated circumstances.

When I first met Mig, he was married to another woman who was pregnant with his child, and apparently, Jennifer, the ex, wasn’t a good woman.

She’d done terrible things to Mig to get him where she wanted him.

A few months later, she showed up pregnant and demanded that he marry her, and Mig, being the kind of guy that he was, did, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He’d intended to stay with her, for better or worse, but then Annie came into his life, showing him what true love really was, and Jennifer’s true motives for all that she did to Mig came out.

And the rest was, as you could say, history.

Mig left his wife to be with Annie. They were married right after Vitaly was born and were raising the child together.

I loved my brother-in-law; he’s a good man who loves my sister, and he isn’t hard on the eyes, either.

But he only had eyes for my sister, and in my opinion, that made him an even better man. So, I didn’t give one single fuck if he ate all of the Bloomin’ Onions as long as he put that smile on my sister’s face every day.

“Did you go outside and say hi to the rest of the guys?” Annie grabbed my hand.

A blonde shoved past us like she had the hounds of hell on her heels.

I spared her only a small glance as I turned my attention to checking out Casten’s house.

It wasn’t very large, but it was cute.

The whole place had a country feel to it. Wood walls, bright red couch, huge TV hanging on the wall above the fireplace.

A big La-Z-Boy that nobody was sitting in, and I had to assume that that was because it was Casten’s, and nobody would’ve dared to take his seat in his own house.

As Annie passed her husband, she hooked her finger into the large loops of the bag I’d brought, taking the rest of the Bloomin’ Onions with us out to the guys on to the back porch.

Mig gave her a glare but, nonetheless, continued talking to the man who’d tried to get a piece of his Bloomin’ Onion earlier.

My stomach started to hurt the moment I walked outside and saw the blonde that had nearly run us over in her rush to get out the door hanging on Casten’s large arm.

He was talking to her like he was sharing a secret, and I wanted to rip her hair out by her fake roots.

She was cute, in a trashy bimbo sort of way.

Long hair that was too straight and too long to be real.

Her eyes were ringed with entirely too much black eyeliner, giving her a whorish look.

She had on bright red lipstick that matched her red halter top, which was at least two sizes too small for her large, probably fake breasts.

Her mini skirt fell to just about an inch past her hoo-ha, and her boots made her look more like Slut Cowgirl rather than Cowgirl Barbie.

Though, it might be a possibility that I was being too hard on her. She was likely cute to most, and I could see that Casten found her enticing if his obvious boner was anything to go by.

Slut Cowgirl noticed the rather obvious bulge in his pants as well because she started to really lay it on thick, running her hands up and down his arms.

And I started to get mad.

I don’t know why.

It wasn’t like I had any claim on him—he’d never even given me the time of day.

Which, somehow, made it even worse.

The pain in my stomach started to become a steady throb, and I tried to smile as Peek started to hoot over the fact that I’d brought food.

But the longer I stood there, the more I knew I needed to go sit down.

Maybe getting away from Casten would make me feel better.

I smiled at Peek and waved.

“I need to go sit down for a minute, my legs hurt,” I lied.

Peek grinned and waved, but I turned on my heels and walked back inside, completely ignoring the man whose eyes I could feel watching my every move.

I took a seat in the empty recliner, picking up the remote that was laying in the seat, and turned on the TV.

I ignored everyone else in the room as I found HGTV, happy to see that one of my favorite shows was on.

What I wasn’t happy to see was that Casten followed me inside.

“That’s my chair,” Casten began.

His dog took a seat near my feet and laid her scarred head on my knees.

I petted her gently, becoming more and more aware of the pain in my belly, which really starting to pulse now.

“Yeah, I don’t feel well,” I told him.

It wasn’t a lie.

He narrowed his eyes.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he grumbled, looking like he really didn’t want to ask me what he wanted to ask me.

“Okay,” I waited, scratching behind the dog’s head.

“My mom’s getting married this weekend,” he kept his eyes pointed down at me.