A. Zavarelli - Stutter (Bleeding Hearts Book 2) Read online

  “Oh, hang on. There’s something else, sir.”

  I reached for the marble paperweight Brighton held in her hand on that first day, smoothing the pad of my finger over the inky blackness. If I didn’t know her so well, I would’ve wondered what it was that drew her to it.

  “What is it?” I asked absently.

  “That bar she was at yesterday?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I had a hunch, so I’ve been hanging around the place. And she just came back here.”

  “With who?” I perked up.

  “She’s by herself,” he said. “But she looks like she’s wearing a uniform.”

  “A uniform?”

  Oh, Jesus Christ, Brighton.

  I was up out of my chair before I’d even fully processed his words. “Wait for me in the parking lot. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Six

  Brighton

  My first night at work was not going that great.

  I kept messing up orders and forgetting everything. What Nicole affectionately deemed my ‘pregnancy brain’ was going to cost me my job if I wasn’t careful.

  I knew David was already losing his patience with me. I kept apologizing, but he’d ended up having to comp two tables’ meals already. At this rate I probably wouldn’t even have a paycheck.

  I’d hoped to be eased into it, but the place was completely packed out. It was a little more overwhelming than I expected, and my feet were already killing me. But I plastered a smile on my face and told myself I could cry later when I was home in the safety of my bed.

  “Hey!” Some guy in one of the booths snapped his fingers at me. “Where the hell is our food?”

  Shit.

  I glanced down at my pad of paper and realized I’d never put their order in. And this was the second time he’d asked me about it.

  “It’ll be out soon.” I gave him a shaky smile. I was going to lose it any minute now.

  “That’s what you said ten minutes ago,” he bellowed.

  He was obviously drunk, and very hungry. And now he was pissed at me. His dark eyes narrowed when I just stood there, unable to conjure up the words I needed.

  “Are you retarded?” he barked. “Do you speak English? WHERE’S. MY. FUCKING. FOO…”

  The moment the last syllable flew from his mouth, a fist slammed across his jaw. I stumbled backwards and bumped into a table when Ryland swung his gaze from the man he just punched back to me.

  I had no idea where he’d even come from, or how the hell he knew I was here. But his eyes were glazed with ice and his voice deadly calm when he gestured towards me.

  “Apologize to my girlfriend.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the guy in the booth cut me off as he stood up and slammed his palms against Ryland’s chest.

  Ryland held his ground, looking scarier than I’d ever seen him-in a suit and tie no less. His face hadn’t been shaved in what looked like a week. Dark circles marred his normally beautiful eyes and his jaw seemed more prominent than I remembered. And yet, his chest heaved with the force of adrenaline, like he was looking forward to pummeling this guy. Like he needed to purge himself of his darkness. I’d seen it happen a thousand times, but never in this way. He was solid and strong and completely unshakable.

  The guy he’d punched spat blood out of his mouth before a crazy grin spread across his face.

  “Your girlfriend’s a fucking idiot…”

  Again, he was cut off by Ryland’s fist. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in my shirt as I heard his body crumple to the ground. I knew he was out cold this time.

  I darted back towards the kitchen, but a hand wrapped around my arm and stopped me.

  “You’re coming with me,” Ryland clipped out.

  “I’m not going anywhere with…”

  “It’s cute how you think you have a choice.”

  He grabbed my hand and tugged me along behind him. Everyone in the bar was dead quiet as they watched the show, including David. I was humiliated.

  “Ryland,” I hissed. “Let go of me.”

  “What’s going on here?” David asked.

  “You can consider this her resignation,” Ryland informed him.

  I panicked and shook my head. “That’s not true, David. I’m so sorry about all of this. Could I just have one minute, please?”

  David gave me a sympathetic glance and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Brighton. But this isn’t going to work out.”

  I nodded and gave him a watery smile. I’d never been fired from a job before, and I was absolutely mortified. Ryland walked on, pulling me along with him, and I didn’t resist this time. But as soon as we were in the parking lot, I jerked away from him.

  “I hate you!” I spat. “How dare you come in here and pull that crap. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Tears streamed down my face, and Ryland didn’t look the least bit guilty. He tried to pull me back into his arms. I wouldn’t let him. No way could I allow that. I wasn’t strong enough to fight the comfort he provided right now.

  “Brighton, you can’t work here,” he stated. “Let me take care of you. You have a card, I want you to use it. I’ll pay your rent, whatever you want. Just tell me where you’re living…”

  “You mean you don’t know that already?” I accused. “I know you’re having me followed.”

  He tightened his jaw and looked away. “You make it sound so…”

  “What?” I interrupted. “Crazy? Because it is crazy, Ryland.”

  “It’s for your own safety,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me,” I insisted. “And I’m not going to humor these tactics of yours just to put you at ease. You need to let me go, Ryland.”

  He looked like I’d slapped him as his eyes fell on mine. “I can never let you go, Brighton.”

  “You have to,” I croaked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I know that isn’t what you really want. I can see it on your face, baby girl. So why are you still pushing me away?”

  I couldn’t answer him. Because my reasons wouldn’t sound convincing enough with the mood I was in. My resolve was already wavering after being in his presence for five minutes. What the hell was wrong with me?

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Let me take you home.”

  “No.”

  “Brighton…”

  “No,” I said again. “I’ll have Nicole come and get me.”

  “Then I’ll wait with you.”

  “I don’t want you to!” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Can’t you understand that, Ryland? I don’t want you here. I don’t want anything else from you. So just go!”

  His eyes filled with pain, and I had to tear mine away. I couldn’t look at him. I knew I was hurting him, but it was necessary. It was the only way I could truly do this.

  “If that’s what you really want…”

  “It is what I want,” I assured him in a shaky voice.

  He nodded and gave me one last glance before he walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  Ryland

  There had been times over the years-during the rise of my career-when I needed a man without a whole lot of scruples. Though I preferred to grind most axes myself, some things in the business world simply weren’t done this way. There was an entire invisible rule book one must abide by. It involved bandwagons, fire and brimstone, horses’ mouths, and so on and so forth. All very secret society type stuff. I wouldn’t bore you with the details, and you probably wouldn’t believe me anyhow.

  But the next time you cross paths with a CEO richer than God, you look him in the eyes and tell me if you still feel the same. It was a cutthroat world, and I was just living in it. The competition was fierce, and if you thought the things I did were bad, you should see some of the other guys. I looked like the virgin fucking Mary in comparison.

  There wasn’t an ounce of pleasure in underhanded business tactics. Frankly, I’d prefer to get by on something I’d built off my own back. What pride could there be in something not earned through blood, sweat and tears? These notions were all well and good in theory. But from the moment I launched my company, I had a giant thorn in my side by the name of Alex Burton. He’d been out to sabotage me from the word go. You thought I was a prick? Wait until you met this one.

  Anyway, my point was there were times when he’d backed me into a corner and tried to hand me the Vaseline. Alex Burton didn’t fight fair. And as I explained before, I had a whole motto about fucking other people before they fucked you first.

  But this one was sly, and, well quite frankly he’d bested me several times over. Not because he was more intelligent by any means. Not because he tossed around smarmy smiles like dinner mints at an all you can eat buffet. No, it was because Alex was the son of Robert Burton. Otherwise known as the master of deceptive business practices. Michael had taught me a lot about business, and almost all of it did me not a lick of good. I’d learned everything on my own in the school of hard knocks.

  I wasn’t about to let some over-privileged snot nose WASP come in and take it from me. So this was where Mick came in.

  Where did I find the six foot six hulking behemoth, you may ask?

  Good question.

  Would you believe me if I told you I found him trying to hot-wire my car after he’d broken into it?

  I shit you not. There he was, ever so smoothly sitting in my fucking Jaguar like he owned the goddamn thing.

  I was actually quite impressed with his balls. Not that I’d ever seen them, but you get the point. Even more impressive was the fact that he’d managed to break into it without setting off the alarm. Yeah, I know… it looks so easy in the movies. But it’s really not. There isn’t a hundred-thousand-dollar price tag on these beasts only to be equipped with kiddie security systems.

  So, Mick intrigued me.

  It was obvious he was homeless, so I invited him to take up residence on my sofa. Don’t go mistaking me for a philanthropist now-it was solely for my benefit. I saw something in Mick that could be of use to me. And soon enough, I knew exactly what that was.

  Ex-special forces, Mick had racked up more medals and accolades than a homecoming queen in a high school yearbook. Raised on the streets of Detroit, he’d pulled himself out of the gutter and did everything a good soldier was supposed to. He’d made a life for himself in the face of adversity. It wasn’t until he was serving his glorious country overseas that the news came which would forever change his course.

  His young and beautiful wife had been raped and murdered in their own home. I’ll spare you the gory details of everything that happened next, but it’s not too difficult to guess. The crackpot justice system failed Mick, so he took matters into his own hands. Though they’d never been able to prove it, he’d gutted his wife’s rapist like a fish.

  Told you we had something in common, no? Okay, so maybe I’d never taken a life. But Mick and I, we understood each other. The only difference was once it was all said and done for him, he’d found himself at the bottom of a bottle. You already know how I felt about that. So I promptly sent him off to the best of rehabs and told him to get his fucking shit together. I had a new purpose for him.

  Mick got on board with no resistance whatsoever. When he learned about my family, he was eager to help. It was nice-that sense of comradery. The idea that we were just two vigilante enforcers out to settle old beefs. But he drew the line when it came to hurting women, understandably so. He was the closest thing I had to a friend, even though I was technically his employer. Still, we’d been on shaky ground since that horrible night he’d discovered Brighton in the car. I didn’t quite know how to make amends for that either. Because while I gave the order, Mick was the follow through. His was the conscience that had to live with his actions though I doubted he could possibly feel any worse than me.

  I had very few people in my life who held me accountable for my actions, but Mick did. I respected him for that. I respected that he had enough morals not to cross certain lines, and to give me the appropriate doses of verbal reprimand when I needed them. I’d failed her, it was true. However, what Mick couldn’t see was that my every move thereafter was to prevent it from happening again.

  His face was impassive as I studied him. The marble paperweight sailed to and fro in my palms, the ebb and flow of its mass anchoring me. Mick appeared every bit the oaf upon first glance, but there was a lot more lurking beneath the surface than you’d expect. He was a gentle giant, but also a deadly one. I didn’t inspire a lick of fear in him, but he bowed to me nonetheless. There were certain things he felt he owed, but it wasn’t why he stuck around.

  We had an odd relationship, I’d be the first to admit it. Two vacant souls in a desolate sink hole. He respected me. At least I had that going for me. He didn’t want to disappoint the man who’d pulled him from the brink of self-destruction. But he was also hiding things from me. What did I tell you about the size of his balls?

  Anticipation was as powerful a motivator as fear, in my humble opinion. Hm. I take that back. Humble, I was not. I was an arrogant fuck who only wanted one goddamn thing in this world, and right now the man in front of me was an obstacle to that, no matter how righteous his intentions.

  “You see, Mick…” I drew out the words, keeping my voice tight and in control so he knew I was being completely rational. “The thing is, I don’t like to blow my own horn. But I excelled in math. Still do, in fact. It comes easily to me. Some people, not so much. It’s a gift.”

  Mick shifted in his chair and arched a brow at me. “Not quite sure what you’re getting at boss.”

  “What I’m getting at is that the shit you’re peddling me doesn’t add up, your story has more holes than Swiss cheese, and your smoke and mirrors are better left to the kiddies.”

  His face blanched, and he had the decency to look the slightest bit remorseful.

  “I know she’s a beautiful girl.” I set down the paperweight and leaned forward on my elbows. “Sweet. Funny. Charming as hell.”

  Mick smirked, but wisely chose not to respond.

  “She’s mine.”

  There was no argument about that, and I waited for Mick’s reaction. I doubted the big lug had actually developed feelings for her. But there was certainly something amiss, and it was time to dispense with the monkey business.

  “I’m fully aware of that, sir,” he assured me.

  His eyes crinkled in amusement and it relieved me to know that wasn’t going to be an issue. Out of a handful of people I trusted, Mick made the top of the list. Even smaller was the list of those-apart from myself-I deemed capable of protecting Brighton. That score consisted of one, and he was it. He excelled at what he did, but having fuzzy warmth for my girl wasn’t going to fly.

  “So it’s the guilt, then,” I remarked.

  Mick looked away, and bingo! We had a winner.

  “She wasn’t supposed to be in the car that night,” he mumbled.

  “You think I’m not blatantly aware of that by now?” I snapped.

  “I know you are, boss.” He glanced at me with concern. I hated that look. Except on Brighton. My little lotus flower could worry her pretty face over me all day long. In fact, a dose of that would be well received right about now. Much better than her cavalier indifference to the useless bag of bones I was becoming.

  I was a little bit of a masochist myself as evidenced by my next question. “You think I should give her up?”

  Mick blinked at me and sawed his teeth over his bottom lip before answering. “I know you love her, boss. But don’t you think enough damage has been done?”

  “You know what I think?” I shot laser beams into his murky brown eyes. “I think I’m not paying you to have a fucking opinion.”

  Mick grunted in response. So frigging typical.

  “I need you on her at all times,” I barked out. “I need to know she’s safe, if nothing else. And if I find out you’re withholding her address from me on purpose…”

  My email pinged. There were few matters worthy of disrupting this conversation with my old buddy, old pal. The exception, of course, was the private investigator in Chicago. In this case, no news would’ve been good news.

  Mick forgotten, I opened it up without delay. I hated being right. Photos of Brayden occupied my screen and exacerbated my animosity towards my love’s darker half. While I signed over monthly checks to keep the twins alive, he’d inflamed old wounds by getting reacquainted with Frankie’s old neighborhood.

  Christ.

  He was even dumber than I gave him credit for, and this was about to complicate the shit out of everything I thought I’d buried.

  I hadn’t a clue when I made a deal with the devil six years ago it’d come back to haunt me like this. Alfredo had been paid enough to wash his hands of the matter until a more suitable time. Out of sight, out of mind. But not when Brayden was parading himself all over Frankie’s old stomping grounds with a giant red target on his back. The two paths would collide, sooner or later.

  Alfredo would put a bullet in his head without a second thought, money be damned. And then what? Would they try to come for Brighton too?

  “We’ll pick this up later, Mick.”

  He didn’t say a word as he slinked out the door. I reached for the photo proudly displayed on my desk. The only personal touch in my office, I must have looked at it a hundred times a day. She was so goddamn lovely.

  My little ray of sunshine.

  She didn’t believe it, but she was still as pure in my mind as she ever had been. And nobody was going to take her away from me.

  Nobody.

  Chapter Eight

  Brighton

  “Are you sure you want to do this today?” Nicole asked as I flitted around and checked the clothing racks one last time.

  “Absolutely,” I replied. “I still can’t believe how much work you put into this Nicole. This is really going to be amazing.”

  “You did all of the hard work,” she said. “I just organized.”

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