Sweet Trouble (3 page)

Bailey

Mr. McKinley is like man repellant. After being leered at and ogled by half the men in the bar, I’ve apparently become invisible the minute we start dancing. Not one man looks at me. Not even the man wearing the baseball cap that says
Boats and Hoes
. When Sydney and I ordered our drinks at the bar, he asked if he could buy them for us and Sydney shut him down so swiftly, I almost felt sorry for him.

Dancing with Mr. McKinley is wonderful. Easy. I concentrate on his instructions so I don’t think of the way his touch sends a sizzle of arousal across my body. And his scent makes my rational thoughts scatter like frightened rabbits.

The irrational part of my brain wants more. More than a whiff of his sexy scent. More than a single dance in a dingy bar. More. No. Don’t go there, Bailey. He’s handsome and virile and has a presence I’ve never encountered before, but I’m sure he has something against me. I don’t need to start a relationship underwater.

“How’d you get in the bar if you’re underage?” he asks.

His words rumble across his back and I can feel the reverberations beneath the palms of my hands.

“Are you almost twenty-one?” he adds.

“Pretty much,” I say, hoping he’ll just drop it, because one, it’s not his business, and two, I don’t want anyone to hear that I’m underage.

“When will you be twenty-one?”

“So nice of you to ask. Are you going to send flowers?”

“Answer my question. Are you almost twenty-one?”

“I am, in fact, almost twenty-one.”

Which is so much of a stretch, some might call it a lie. I turned twenty just a couple of weeks ago. I glance up at him, momentarily distracted by his grey eyes. They’re cold. Just like him. And his nose is crooked in the middle. I’m surprised I didn’t see it the other day. My gaze drifts to his beard and I can’t decide if I like it or not. It looks good… well, great, but he has a nice square jaw too, and it’s hidden under the beard, which is a bit of a shame. His lips quirk. He knows I’m checking him out.

“So when is your birthday?”

“Middle of September.”

He shakes his head. “Eleven and a half months from now?”

“Right.” I manage to keep dancing while I keep my gaze fixed on his.

“That’s a bit of a lie.” His smile fades. “I don’t care for liars, Bailey.”

Why does he get to call me by my first name when I’ve only addressed him formally?

“It’s just a little one,
Mr. McKinley
.”

He scoffs. “A little lie. It’s like wanting to go jump in the pool.”

Well, there’s a comment that makes no sense at all. “A little lie is like a swimming pool…why didn’t I think of that?”

“Shut up and listen.”

I must be a glutton for his abuse. What I should do is leave now, go to my car in the rain and go home. Every other couple is pressed together, some looking and smiling at each other, some kissing, and some holding each other tight like they’ll never let go. Me? I just got told to shut up. Right after he called me a liar.

“As I was saying,” he continues in an irritated tone. “It’s like wanting to jump in the pool, and just before you do you see some little turd floating down in the deep end.”

“I…see.” I don’t, really. But I want to act like I know just what the hell he’s talking about because by now I’m curious just how unstable this man might be.

“You don’t care if it’s a little turd or a big one.”

“Not at all.” I’m guessing here, but I think I was supposed to say that.

“Because it’s contaminated the whole pool. Right?”

His logic does make some sense which should worry me. How much rum did Sydney put in my coke? He’s looking at me like he expects me to praise his little truism, one that will forever remain seared into my visual cortex. “You’re kind of a silver-tongued devil aren’t you?”

The words spill out and I wish I could call them back because I’m sure he’s going to make some horrible remark about his tongue or something inappropriate. That’s the vibe I get from him. Like he’s a sexual beast. Dangerous. Dark. Insatiable. And in an instant I’m back in that space where I imagine what skills he has and what he might do to me if I ever gave him the chance.

He doesn’t say a word though. His eyes lose their cold hard look and almost soften. Is he a gentleman and that animal vibe is my own imagination? Maybe. I really don’t know. His gentle gaze makes me feel lost, unmoored and I almost wish he’d say something untoward, or cutting. I’ve dreamed torrid dreams of this man every night since I met him in the hospital. His hold on me is something I don’t understand. His hostility I can handle, but his tenderness might break me into a thousand pieces.

Sydney dances past, yanking me from my thoughts. “Black belt,” she whisper-yells, tilting her head towards Nick. “No sparring with dark colors!”

And then she’s gone, giving me a look of warning as she disappears into the crowd.

Nick glances back and then frowns at me. “Is that code for something?”

The song winds down and his hold on my hand and waist loosens. Instantly I miss the heat of his touch and the way it sizzled across every nerve in my body.

“Yes,” I say lightly. “But I’m sure you don’t want to know, considering I’m nothing but a liar. Besides, I’m leaving now.”

I step off the dance floor and see Sydney. I wave and she gives Mr. McKinley a concerned look. Shaking my head, I gesture that she should call me and I head back to my table. In fifteen minutes I’ll be home and this evening will be nothing more than a memory.

I grab my purse and leave a few dollars for the waitress. Even though we didn’t end up ordering anything, I want to give her a little money. Mr. McKinley has gone to the bar, and after he hands the bartender a few bills, comes back to my table.

“I’m going to walk you to your car.”

“Thank you, Mr. McKinley but-”

“Quit bull-shitting me, Bailey. My name is Nick.”

He takes hold of my arm, clasping my elbow in a firm, authoritative way, a way I shouldn’t like. I should hate it and yank my arm away, but I don’t. In fact, I feel a little moan of pleasure at the back of my throat. I glance at him but he shows no sign of noticing how much I love his touch.

We walk out the front door, looking like any other couple, only he’s probably got a scowl on his face. The rain has lessened, but it’s still rumbling. Lightening stabs the distant sky. I fish my keys out of my purse. I want to say something to signal he can go, and I’m about to thank him for walking me out, not that I had a choice, but he speaks before I do.

“Start your car.”

I get in and turn the key. I think there’s a click but I’m not sure because thunder booms across the sky. I try again and there’s a definite click this time, accompanied by a buzzing sound. Shit. My car’s made this sick noise before and I had to buy a whole new transistor. It cost a ton.

He’s studying me as if trying to decide what to do with me. I don’t want him to think I’m his responsibility or that this is his problem. I turn the key again. Nothing.

“Maybe it just needs to warm up.” I smile and pat the steering wheel. “My car just needs to think it over. I’ll be fine.”

Wind gusts and with it comes a new wave of rain. Fat rain drops pelt my car and both of us, too. Shadows play over his features and I can’t see his expression.

“I’ll take you home. Give me your keys.”

He shouts the words to be heard over the wind. I don’t know how to respond. I can’t let a stranger take me home. Can I? My mind goes back to the way he looked at me on the dance floor. He’s not dangerous I tell myself. Thunder blasts nearby and I jump out of my car. He takes my keys and places them under the floor mat, then closes the door and starts walking to his car. I follow him. He opens the passenger door of his truck and practically tosses me up into the seat.

When he gets in, he takes out his phone, dials, and tells someone to tow my vehicle to Arnold’s Garage. Incredulous, I listen to him give the person a description of my car and that my keys are under the floor mat. I want to stop him but something in the way his eyes burn makes me think better of it.

He ends the call. “It’s probably just a dead battery, but I can’t do much in the rain and you sure as hell don’t want it here overnight.”

“Okay,” I say, reluctantly. “But it’s not the battery. It’s the transistor.”

He stares at me, probably surprised that I know a thing or two about cars. A slow smile curves his lips.

“Transistor, huh? Why don’t we leave the diagnostics to the professionals? I’m sure those boys can figure it out.”

“Right.”

A moment later we’re pulling out of the parking lot into blinding rain. The downpour is deafening and I practically have to shout the directions to my house. He’s forced to drive slowly. I take in the details of his truck. It’s big and has a new car smell.

“How’s your chin?” I shout over the din of rain. It’s not possible to have a conversation, really, but I want to know.

“It healed up fine.”

You’re welcome
. That’s what I want to say, but I let it go.

When we pull up to my house, I see two other cars there. Cars I don’t recognize.

“How many roommates do you have?” he asks.

“Just one. I thought she would be alone tonight. She just broke up with her fiancé.”

He undoes his seat belt and I lay my hand on his arm. “Thank you Nick. You don’t need to walk me in.”

“The hell I won’t.”

Getting out of the car and following him up my own walkway seems a little silly. The man clearly thinks very little of me and I’m starting to feel insulted. Plus, I’m tired. Exhausted. All I want to do is lie down and go to sleep. In my own bed. With no alarm clock going off at five in the morning, it’s going to be pure heaven.

The door is part way open. Nick enters before me but I’m right behind. The front hallway is littered with two pairs of enormous boots and two cowboy hats. Susanna’s voice pierces the quiet house.

“Yes. Jimmy. Yes.”

A man’s voice joins her and then another …

My mind reels. Susanna wouldn’t hook up. She’s heart-broken, at least, that’s what I thought. And yet, it’s clear that’s what’s going on. She’s with two guys at once.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. I say the words without thinking and when I glance up at Nick, I feel a burst of mortification light my skin.

“Harder…harder…yes…”

He leans against the door frame, the look on his face is bemused as he scans the entry and the den. The coffee table is littered with wine bottles and take out. A bottle of soda, half empty, serves as an ashtray with butts floating in the dark sludgy liquid. I’ve only known Susanna a short while. She’s a slob, but this is worse than anything I’ve ever come home to. And I’ve never come home to her having wild sex.

“It doesn’t usually look like this,” I tell him.

“Fuck me…Yes…Harder, you bastard.”

“Or sound like this. Susanna doesn’t even drink. I don’t know who these people are.” Why I feel the need to explain, I don’t know, but I don’t want him to add more black points beside my name.

“You can’t stay here.”

My mind lurches and I replay the words in my head, trying to make sense of everything, or anything.

“I’m not leaving you here. Go pack a bag. You’re coming with me.”

“Oh my God, I can’t go with you!”

“Move,” he orders and then starts nudging me down the hallway.

“There’s no way.” I start hiccupping for some reason I can’t understand. Panic most likely and I’m about to tell him he’s got to leave as Susanna’s door opens. A man strolls out. I’ve never laid eyes on him before. Despite the fact that he’s wearing nothing but dingy boxers, he proceeds past us toward the bathroom. He gives Nick a curt nod.

The door closes. The next sound is the man groaning and taking a lengthy piss.

“Someone you know?” Nick asks.

I shake my head, hardly able to take all this in. Susanna is fucking two guys at once, and it looks like they’re just getting going. I think about calling Sydney, but she might end up taking her cowboy home. I can’t go to her apartment.

Nick leans against the doorway of my room. “Either you pack a bag or I will.”

There’s no way to argue with him. I wrack my brain for a way to convince him that I’ll be fine but it’s clear he won’t be swayed. A blast of lightening makes me jump and cry out in terror.

“Okay, okay, fine,” I whisper. “I’ll pack it myself.”

Nick

This girl weighs nothing. Like a hundred-five. Maybe. I carry her into the house wondering where the hell I’m going to put her. I have one bed. One. Muttering a few choice cuss words, I lay her on my bed, stand up and look at her. There was no way I was leaving her there with the shit that was going down.

“Fuck,” I grind out from between clenched teeth.

She doesn’t move. It’s disturbing how deeply she sleeps. One minute she was jabbering about Susanna being the quiet one and how did you ever really know someone after all? Sydney is her best friend she tells me and usually they room together, but this time she got stuck with Susanna. Then she tells me how she and Sydney went to nursing school together. Visited San Francisco for graduation, drank Saki and saw the Golden Gate. She starts to tell me about visiting tide pools or something like that when she faded off.

Which was fine by me. I needed to focus on staying on the road. The rain came down in sheets and I could barely see the road. I drove slow praying some eighteen-wheeler wasn’t doing seventy somewhere behind us.

When I drove down my driveway, I barely made it through the low water crossing. If this doesn’t let up sometime in the night, Blue Eyes and me are going to be roommates for a few days.

She rolls over to the middle of my bed and curls up, her sweet little skirt edging up the back of her thighs.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles.

Her clothes are damp from the rain and I don’t want her to catch cold. How much did she have to drink, I wonder, as I tug off her boots. I set them aside and wrap a blanket around her, tucking it under her shoulders. I linger and unable to resist, lower to breathe deeply. Her scent is honeyed, floral and what I really want is to explore every inch of her.

I want to shelter her, protect her, yes, those are my noble thoughts, but the beast in me, the cave man as she put it, wants to strip her bare and explore her with my hands and mouth.

I kick off my boots, snap off the light and wander to the window. Way too much energy to sleep right now. There’s a terrific light show going on with the storm, strobe-light tendrils of lightning flashing across the sky. Thunder crashes, suddenly and out of the blue, shaking the roof. Lightning flashes right after and she sits up in bed, looks at me with her hand held out.

“Mr. McKinley,” she says, her eyes unfocussed.

Right then I start to think something’s off. Her voice sounds eerie. Hollow. I settle in the bed beside her and pull her down so she’s tucked beside me. Meanwhile I pull my phone from my pocket and call Olivia. Bailey’s snoring on my shoulder. Thunder rumbles non-stop and I’m pretty sure every stream and river is overflowing its banks about now.

The phone rings and rings.

“Answer, dammit.”

“This better be good,” Olivia mutters. “I was in the middle of a Daniel Craig dream.”

“Tell me about the drug some guys put in women’s drinks. So they can take advantage of them. What happens to the woman after she’s taken something like that?”

“I don’t know much about that stuff.”

“Well look it up.”

She yawns loudly and groans. “I’ll tell you what I know. Women get disoriented and fall asleep. It’s bad. They can-”

“What’s the danger to the woman? Say she’s been given the drug, but she’s in a safe place.”

I hear some fumbling, like she’s dropped the phone or something. This isn’t the first time I’ve called my sister in the middle of the night, but it’s the first time for something like this. Bailey nestles closer, her arm reaching around my torso and I draw a harsh breath.

Olivia comes back to the phone. “Sorry, Nick I dropped the phone. I have to say you’re freaking me out.”

“I’m keeping an eye on a girl who might have taken something she shouldn’t have.”

The phone goes quiet. Has she gone to sleep or is she ignoring me because I’m asking stupid questions or is she preparing a lecture. A
Talk
.

“Nick, you have a felony conviction. You have to be careful with who you bring home. Super clear on consent. Have you looked in the mirror in the last ten years? One look at you and any judge is going to rule against you.”

“Which is why, Olivia, I’m trying to help this girl.”

Olivia never misses a chance to give me grief, but she’s super-protective too. It’s been eleven years since I left prison but she always frets that I’ll slip up and get sent back. Mostly it’s her own guilt. I was convicted because I damn near killed David Voss, after I’d found out what he did to Olivia. If she knew Bailey Voss was lying in my bed right now, unconscious, she’d seriously lose her shit.

“I don’t know, Nick. How’s her breathing?

“It’s fine.”

“Try to wake her and ask her a question. If she’s been drugged, she won’t respond.”

I rock Bailey back and forth a bit but she doesn’t stir.

“Try to talk to her.”

I set the phone down and move Bailey more firmly. “Hey, wake up.”

She moans and nestles deeper into my arms. “You smell really good, Nick. I could eat you with a spoon. I don’t want to dress out for PE though.”

“I think she’s all right,” I tell Olivia. “She answers me when I talk to her. Knows who I am. I think she had a little too much to drink. She’s a little mixed up.”

“That’s what I think too. Okay. Good. Thank God. Keep her warm, have her sleep on her side in case she needs to puke and don’t let her wander off into the storm. Jesus, it’s scary out there. I think it’s safe to say we’re not going to Gran’s for breakfast.”

Another flash of lightning illuminates Bailey’s features. I stroke her jaw and suppress a groan. Touching her is a bad idea but I can’t help myself.

“Good night, Olivia. Thank you.” I end the call.

Bailey stirs and slowly pulls herself to a sitting position. “Is someone here?”

“I’m here, Bailey. Me. Nick.”

I brace for her to scream or something but in the dim light I see her run her fingers through her hair. She doesn’t freak out, thank God. I don’t know why I care so much about a member of the Voss family. Bailey is just so vulnerable, and beautiful, it unravels part of the hard spot in my chest. There was a time when I vowed to do anything I could to bring down every member of the family. But I didn’t know about Bailey.

“I have to go,” she says matter-of-factly. “I have cheerleading practice.”

The girl is delusional. My mind takes a short jog down a path it has no business traveling. Bailey. A cheerleader. Jumping around in a little, tiny skirt. Jesus. Is she trying to torture me?

“Right,” I say trying to think fast. “Well… practice got cancelled. Because of the rain.”

“Really. Where’s mom?”

Mom? “She…went to get you some…ice cream.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Shit. Look at me. Here I was lecturing
her
on lies and I’m spouting them like a fucking water fountain. I scrub a hand across my face, wishing I could just take her to the ER. She’s so young. What if someone gave her something bad, like really, really bad. But there’s no way to get out of here. Everything is under water. The roads are flooded. Everything. For tonight, I’m all Bailey has.

“So you can sleep in,” I tell her. “And in the morning I’ll make you breakfast.”

Breakfast? I’ve never made a woman breakfast.

“I need to go,” she says. Her voice is a notch higher.

The way she’s looking out the window and talking about going has me thinking she might wander off into the storm. That can’t happen.

I edge a little closer, tug her close. I half-expect her to struggle, but she doesn’t. Her body goes soft and when I have her settled in the blankets, I slide the drawer open and feel around for a package. It’s something from a bachelor party I went to a few months ago in Vegas. When I find it, I slowly rip it open and the metal clinks as the cuffs fall into my hand.

These were meant as a joke, or so I thought, but they are real, actual handcuffs. When the groom gave each of us a pair along with some other ridiculous toys, I never imagined I’d be using them. Certainly not like this.

This is fucking insane, I think, as I gently cuff her wrist to mine. If Bailey doesn’t have a heart attack in the morning she’ll kill me. I’m pretty sure I won’t even try to defend myself. I pull her next to me and wrap her up in my arms to keep her warm.