Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One Page 27

  If there was a possibility that the nightmare of the last day was a misunderstanding, the pictures, tweets, Facebook postings, and video feed coming out of the competition put a bullet through the heart of her last hope.

  The blogs were all over the fairy-tale story of Logan’s success and his and Payton’s upcoming New Year’s Eve wedding.

  She didn’t know why she was glued to her computer—it was like some sick masochistic fascination. And every picture, every interview, every mention of Logan and Payton together, just shattered what was left of her already broken heart.

  She shut down the computer, took off her apron, and walked out onto the floor. She did her deep-breathing exercises on her way to the office and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Slater sat at Logan’s desk. His hair shone in the overhead lighting, and his hazel eyes seemed to see right through her. “I was looking for you last night. Rocki said you ducked out the back. I even went up to your place—you didn’t answer the door. Logan was concerned about you.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Logan. “I went to sleep early. Is Pete around? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s upstairs—Nicki just got home from Francis and Patrice’s place.” He clicked something on his computer—a computer that looked like a spaceship. Neon green lights shot through the keyboard and around the edges. It was the biggest laptop she’d ever seen. It must have had a twenty-inch screen. Alienware—she’d never heard of that brand but wouldn’t mind taking it for a spin. Then again, maybe not. She’d already spent enough time looking at pictures of the love of her life with his fiancée.

  Slater’s fingers flew over the keyboard at unbelievable speeds. He scanned the screen, hit a few more keys, and then looked at her again. “I can see you have something to discuss. Come on, I’ll take you up.”

  She got a sudden chill; she wasn’t sure if it was from the glacial look in his eyes or the room’s frigid temperature. “You don’t have to. I know the way.”

  He leaned back in the worn desk chair—the look in his eyes belying his relaxed pose. “You do realize I’m managing the place while Logan’s away. If there’s something you need to discuss with Pop that has anything to do with the restaurant, I need to be there.”

  Too damn bad. “I’d prefer to speak to Pete alone.”

  Slater saved his work and shut the lid with the finality of slamming a door. He stood. “No.”

  “What are you, some kind of self-appointed bodyguard? Pete doesn’t need protection from me.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Logan. I really don’t care. All I know is that Logan is strung tighter than a nuclear power plant’s IT guy who just discovered they were being attacked by the Fukushima virus.”

  “Fukushima virus?”

  “Take my word for it: It’s bad. I don’t know what the hell is wrong, but I know it has something to do with you. So forgive me if I don’t want to let you run roughshod over my father too.”

  “Run roughshod over your father? As if. And as for Logan, I’m hardly the cause of whatever it is that’s bothering him. Maybe it’s his guilty conscience. I’m not the one cheating.”

  “Logan doesn’t cheat. Ever.”

  “Right. That’s why he’s kissing his ex on camera. Look, I’m not here to get into a pissing contest with you, Slater. I don’t have the right equipment. And I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you sing your cheating brother’s praises. I quit. I’m leaving after my shift tonight.”

  Slater’s mouth dropped open and Skye wanted to stick the stapler in it. Instead, she held up her hand to stop whatever was about to come out. “Don’t worry. I’ve already spoken to Rex—the chef I replaced—and he’ll be here before opening on Tuesday. The kitchen is covered. I’m finished. And you and your sainted brother can both go to hell.”

  Rocki burst through the door like a neon-colored cyclone. “Skye—there’s a table that wants to compliment the chef. They sound like they know you. I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, sister, but they are four of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in one place—well, maybe except onstage in Magic Mike. Those guys were hot, but then they were wearing a lot less then the men asking for you. So I’ll gladly wait to make a more informed decision at a later date. I wonder if they dance.”

  “What guys?” Skye and Slater asked in stereo, which was just too weird for words. Slater puffed up like Barney on steroids. Why should he care if there was an entire football team waiting for her?

  Rocki blew her pink streak out of her eyes and grabbed Skye’s hand. “I figured you and Logan must be through for you to call your posse—”

  “My posse?”

  “Please tell me you’ll share. I’ll give you first dibs and everything. No pressure, but the ginger with the earring is definitely my type.”

  Rocki tugged on Skye’s hand and dragged her through the door. She stepped out onto the floor and a table of men stood at attention. Her gaze landed on Paddy.

  “Hey, squirt, you’ve put together an amazing menu. The food was excellent. You’ve done us all proud.”

  His worried eyes locked on hers, he opened his arms, and it was as if the dam broke. She’d been holding it together all day. Through the morning prep, the lunch rush, the dinner prep, and all the times she checked the Internet for updates on Logan. She’d been stuffing all the tears, putting emotions on a back burner. But one word of praise from her big brother shattered her composure. She ran for him blubbering like a baby.

  Paddy wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, leaving her feet dangling. “We’re here now. It’s going to be okay.”

  She looked over Paddy’s shoulder and saw the rest of her brothers looking nervously from her to one another.

  Kier shrugged to Colin, and Reilly looked like he expected their father to come after him for pulling her hair.

  “What…what are you doing here?”

  Paddy set her down but didn’t let her go. “Kelly said you needed us. I sent out a code red and we jumped on the next plane.”

  “Who’s taking care of your restaurants?”

  “Our sous chefs.”

  “But you never leave—not all of you.”

  Kier gave her his you’re-in-danger-of-getting-a-smack-on-the-ass look. “You never needed us before. When we get a code red, we come to fix the problem.” He thrust out his chest and scanned the room, his blue eyes flashing, looking almost purple in the bar lighting, and landed on someone.

  Skye followed his gaze and saw it was locked squarely on Slater.

  Slater’s gaze shot from Kier—the ginger Rocki had talked about—to Rocki and back again. His bearing went from confused to street fighter in a nanosecond.

  Pete and Francis flanked Slater.

  Reilly and Colin stood on either side of Kier. Shit. All they needed were cowboy hats, six-shooters, and some cheesy piano music and they’d have their own spaghetti western. This was so not good.

  Skye stepped out of Paddy’s arms, wiped her tears, and went straight to Pete and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “Pete Calahan, this is my family.”

  He leaned in and whispered. “Your brothers?”

  She nodded. “Patrick’s the big one—you heard about him. Kier is the ginger with the earring—our rebel without a clause. A lawyer turned chef—”

  Rocki actually swooned. “He’s a lawyer and can cook too? Yum.” She stepped closer to Kier, gave him the seal of approval, and flashed the bright white Rocki special. “Hi. How are you with torts?”

  Slater took a step forward. “Can it, Rocki. Pretty boy’s not here for a quickie. He’s come to rescue the little princess who’s been slumming it and playing us for the last month. Little Ginger’s here to take her back to the castle. Isn’t that right, Skye?”

  Colin stepped in front of Kier—either to shield him or to get first dibs on Slater.

  She pushed Slater back a step for his own protection and because if someone got to hit him, she’d take the fir
st swing. He stepped back willingly, obviously, since she’d have as much chance of pushing him around as she would pushing a freakin’ mountain. She was surprised he moved. “Slater, leave Rocki out of this. I don’t know where you came up with this princess crap or what kind of castle you think I’m from, but you know nothing about me. I don’t care if you don’t like me, but I don’t want trouble, so I strongly suggest you keep your mouth shut. You see my brother Colin over there? The big guy in the red shirt? He’s a seventh-degree black belt in tae kwon do. He can turn you into a pretzel if he wanted to. So be a good boy and back off.”

  She turned to Reilly, who looked happy enough to just stand back and watch the proceedings—Reilly was so laid-back, sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t adopted. “Reilly, would you please throw some water on these guys or take them out back and let them beat the crap out of each other? I don’t care what they do as long as they don’t do it in here. I’ve had enough.”

  She didn’t wait for a response before ignoring the lot of them and focusing on Pete. “Pete, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. I talked to Rex last night and he’s on his way home. I tried to tell you earlier. I went into the office to talk to you but ran into Slater instead. I’m not his favorite person, obviously.”

  Pete pulled her aside. “Skye, I can see you’re upset, but I don’t understand. What the hell happened? Yesterday afternoon everything was fine. What changed?”

  Slater let out a laugh that was more menacing than funny. “She’s not leaving, Pop—she’s running. She probably found out Logan’s not as rich as he looks. You know princesses expect a pedigree and Logan doesn’t have one.”

  Her head whipped back to Slater. The man could go from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Jackass with a chip the size of Mount Rushmore on his shoulder in under a minute—she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

  Pete speared him a warning look that had Slater taking a full step back. After seeing that look, she had no problem imagining Pete as the tough detective he was purported to be. “That’s enough out of you, boy. Skye’s brothers are our guests. If you can’t be nice, go upstairs and check on Nicki.”

  Slater gave him a curt nod, and shot her another disapproving glare. “Your psycho fantasies aside, my brother is no cheater.” He looked back at his father and shrugged. “I’ll be at the end of the bar if you need me, Pop.”

  “Fine, just don’t cause any trouble, and I mean it, Slater. I don’t know what bug flew up your ass, but it ends here. Do I make myself clear?”

  Red stripes sharpened Slater’s cheekbones like war paint against his pale skin. His hazel eyes flashed over the crowd, then settled on Pete. “Yes, sir.”

  Skye leaned into Pete. “Military?”

  “Navy.”

  “I hope he’s better at following orders than at conversation.”

  Pete cracked a smile. “Let me get a drink—not a word, young lady.”

  “I’m not saying anything. While you’re back there, pour me one of whatever you’re having. I could use something—anything but champagne, that is.”

  “Go on back to the office. I’ll bring the drinks and we’ll talk about whatever it is that’s got everyone in an uproar, okay?”

  She nodded and took a step forward. All her brothers moved in unison. She turned. “I’m fine. Just do me a favor—sit down and behave yourselves. You too, Rocki.” She smiled up at Francis. “Feed them dessert.”

  Francis clapped her shoulder. “Sure, Skye. I’ll babysit the boys.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Skye finished packing and had everything ready to leave. The limo was waiting to take her and her brothers to the airport. The only thing she hadn’t done was say good-bye to Nicki. She checked her watch. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She packed up Pepperoni’s toys and food, put her on her leash, and let the dog pull her across the alley.

  Letting herself into Pete’s apartment, Skye took Pepperoni off her leash. When she stood, she saw the second-to-last man she ever wanted to see.

  Slater tossed the book he’d been reading on the coffee table and stood, forcing her to look up. If he’d stayed seated, they would have been almost the same height.

  She waved him off. “Give it up, Slater. I don’t intimidate easily, and I’m not in the mood. I’m here to drop off Pepperoni and say good-bye to Nicki. Where is she?”

  “She went to her room after dinner. She’s been there all night.”

  “Is she asleep?”

  Slater shrugged.

  “Did you tuck her in?”

  He looked confused.

  “You know, put her to bed, pull the covers over her and her teddy bear. Hugs and kisses, prayers…”

  He stared as if she’d asked him if he had a spare tampon she could borrow.

  “I take that as a no.” She ignored the answering glare and turned down the hall to Nicki’s room and knocked on the door. D.O.G. and Pepperoni circled each other in the narrow space and pushed her into the wall. “Nicki, it’s Skye. Can I come in?”

  There was no answer.

  She opened the door and peeked in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The shadow of Nicki sitting holding her teddy bear under one arm and her iPad to her chest became clear. She didn’t move, she only stared into space—small, lost, dejected, alone.

  The dogs ran in. D.O.G. leaped on the bed and it took three tries for Pepperoni to make the jump. The dogs nudged Nicki. D.O.G. whined and licked her face. Pepperoni stood on Nicki’s lap, rested her paws on Nicki’s shoulders, and gave her kisses. Nicki didn’t move. She didn’t pet them. She didn’t even blink.

  “Hey, Nicki. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Nicki looked at her—or rather through her. Her voice was flat—like a computer-generated voice that told you to press one for Spanish. It was low, steady, emotionless, vacant.

  She knew.

  Skye’s heartbeat slowed. She looked around the perfect pink room with the canopy bed. A perfect room for a little girl with a less than perfect life. And now Skye was going to make it worse. She’d never intended to hurt Nicki, but that was exactly what she was doing. Guilt rested like a two-ton anvil around her neck, pulling her down. She thought she’d sunk as low as humanly possible into the depths of depression. She was wrong. “Nicki, Rex is coming back, and I’m going to have to leave. I wanted to say good-bye.”

  “Sure. Bye.” Nicki tossed her iPad on the bed, wrapped her arm around D.O.G., and sank into the bedding, turning her back to Skye.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Pepperoni rested her head on Nicki’s hip and whined. Staring at Skye with those bulging, expressive, worried eyes.

  “I can’t stay, but it has nothing to do with you.” Her heart beat hard. So hard it felt as if her blood had turned to sludge—too thick to flow.

  “You’re a grown-up. You can do whatever you want.”

  Every word hit Skye like a three-inch nail shot out of a pneumatic nail gun.

  “You just don’t want to stay—not bad enough.”

  She stepped back with each hit.

  “You love Logan, but not enough.”

  Pain—hot and sharp—radiated through her, starting at her head and not stopping until even the soles of her feet burned.

  “That’s okay. Me and Logan, we’re used to not enough, so go ahead and leave.”

  “I’m sorry.” Skye held back a sob. She released the grip on the chair that had been holding her up and backed out of the room. She closed the door and slumped against the wall. The steel bands that had wrapped around her when she looked at that first picture of Logan cinched tighter with every hit. Nicki’s dismissal was the final crank.

  Slater stood there, arms crossed. His smile looked more like a sneer chiseled in granite, his eyes dull and lifeless and shuttered. “I guess she told you, huh?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, but still the sob escaped.

  He stared t
hrough her just like Nicki had, just like Logan had. “You know the way out, right, princess? Go ahead, run away.”

  She dropped her hand and stared up at him. “For your information, I’m not a princess.”

  Slater laughed. “Yeah, I know your type—you’re the princess who likes to slum it with us bad boys until it gets a little too hard, a little too dirty, or a little too serious, and then you go running back to Daddy and your nice castle with your servants and rich boys you can lead around by the nose. Was Logan your little fling on the dark side before settling down with a well-heeled, pedigreed pooch? If this is how you treat Logan, he’s better off with Payton.”

  He hadn’t just rammed the knife through her heart; he twisted it like spaghetti on a fork. “You’re a sick, cruel, small, small man.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a twisted smile. “Yeah, but at least I don’t hurt innocent little girls. If I’m so fuckin’ cruel, what’s that make you?”

  Skye burst into tears. She couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t care what she looked like. She had to get out of there.

  Slater’s laughter chased her out the door and down the steps.

  Skye flew through the outer door; the sharp cold wind slapped her wet face. The limo waited by the curb, the door opened, and she launched herself inside.

  Her brothers piled in behind her, shooting worried looks at one another.

  Skye pulled the sweatshirt around her and curled into a ball. Sure, she was running. Just not fast enough to leave behind the anger, guilt, betrayal, and loss. Not fast enough to evade the pain. Not strong enough to dodge the tears. Not good enough to win Logan’s heart.

  Not good enough totally sucked.

  Paddy reached over and pulled her into a hug. “It’s gonna be all right, squirt. We just need to get you home where you belong.”

  Skye shook her head, burrowed into her brother’s jacket, and released the torrent of grief she’d been holding at bay for the last few days.

  It wasn’t going to be all right.