Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax (5 page)

“What. The. Hell?” Vaughn snarls, his face twisted in fury. “That no-good, slimy—“

“Vaughn. Stop,” she begs. “He
loved
me. He did. He was just desperate. That’s all.”

I can see the torment on her face, and I wonder again how anyone could do something like that to his own daughter. All my anger at her old man is suddenly burned away in compassion for her though, because no one, and I mean no one, deserves the shit life has dealt her.

“He didn’t know the meaning of the word love, Carly.” Vaughn’s voice is cold now, and I watch the hurt shift across her eyes.

“Vaughn,” I warn. “Cool it, man. Her dad just died, and you’re not solving anything this way.”

Carly darts a grateful look at me before nodding her head in agreement.

“Look,” I tell them both. “It seems to me the easiest thing to do here is to offer this guy an alternative to”—I gesture at Carly—“
her
. Money is the answer. We get him the right amount of cash and he’ll go away.”

“Unless you know of a gold mine somewhere,” she says, sarcasm all over the words, “that’s not an option.”

“How much did he owe?” Vaughn asks.

“A hundred,” Carly answers quietly.

“Thousand?!” Vaughn wipes his hand over his face. “Well, at least he didn’t sell his only daughter for chump change.”

I glare at him.

“There’s no way we can get our hands on that kind of cash, Pax. It was a nice idea, but we have to come up with something else.”

I waver for a minute, trying to decide if I want to put it out there. And then I look at her, those beautiful lips, all that thick hair, the long eyelashes, and the even longer legs.

To hell with it. You don’t get anywhere in life if you don’t go for it.

“I can,” I announce. “I can get my hands on that kind of money.”

Three hours later, Carly is tucked away in my guest room and Vaughn is still arguing with me over the call I’m about to make.

“Pax. This is insane. You barely know her, and you won’t even take any help from your dad for your
own
sake—ever. She’s eighteen. She’ll never be able to pay you back. Shit,
I’ll
never be able to pay you back for that matter. I’d have to give you every dime I earn for the next three years to pay that back. Without interest.”

“I don’t need to know her. I know you. I know your family. Your mom is like a mom to me too. This is her one-and-only niece. My dad will want to help out. And if you want, we’ll all three pay him back together. I don’t mind. I really don’t. Carly’s gotten one bad break after another. A mother who ran off, a father who was a scumbag, and now some psycho underworld guy who wants to turn her into a sex slave or something—“

“Exotic dancer,” Vaughn mumbles.

“Oh well, that’s better than an escort,” I deadpan. “Marginally.”

“Dude.” Vaughn glares at me.

“Anyway. She’s had enough crap in her life. She deserves a fresh start, and I know that’s something my dad will get behind. He cares about your family, Vaughn. And so do I. Let us do this for you.”

He sighs. “Compromise,” he proposes. “Think about it overnight. If you still want to in the morning, great. If not—no harm, no foul. We’ll find a plan B.”

“Okay. You win. I’ll sleep on it. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Pax Clark, always with the heroism.” He chuckles and heads off to my room, which I’ve insisted he take for tonight while Carly’s in the guest room. Yeah, we had a big fight over that one too.

I settle into the sofa, punching my pillow a few times to get it the way I want. Then I close my eyes and dream of long, dark hair and lush, pink lips.

**

The clunk is followed by a hiss of pain and a string of whispered profanities. I sit up, trying to get my bearings. Living room sofa. Vaughn and Carly. I’m up and heading toward the shadowy figure a few feet from me before I can process the person’s size and voice. All I can think is that loan shark dude has come back and he’s after Carly. Not on my watch.

I lunge, getting the guy around the waist and taking him down to the floor. He yelps. It’s high pitched, and a second later, I hear him hiss, “Oh my God. Get off of me.” When he starts to squirm, I realize that he’s a lot softer and a lot smaller than he ought to be. But it isn’t until I put my hands on a narrow, little waist and my thumbs brush the underside of something that is definitely not male that I realize my mistake. I squint down at her in the darkness.

“Carly?”

“Yes,” she grits out, shifting underneath me. Yeah, that feels a little too good.

I take a deep breath trying to will the semi back down. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Can you get off of me?” she breathes, giving another little wiggle. She needs to stop that.

Or not. I’d be good with that too.

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing sneaking around my house in the middle of the night.” I know the minute I say it that it’s just an excuse. If I were being the gentleman my parents raised me to be, I’d get off of her—like ten seconds ago—but I’m enjoying this far too much. I can’t help myself.

“God, you’re a freak,” she grits out. “I was getting a glass of water.”

I can tell she’s lying.

“Really?” I ask, my voice soaked with skepticism. “That’s why you were clear over here by the front door when the kitchen is the opposite direction?”

She huffs out an impatient breath. “I forgot where the kitchen was.”

I shake my head, and when I do, I feel her soft breasts press against my chest. She has her hands flat against my shoulders, and in the gloom, I can see that her eyes are wide and her tongue darts out to lick her lips. My heart races. God, those lips.

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her as I reach up and take her arm to the floor above her head, rubbing my thumb along one delicate wrist.

“I was trying to leave,” she whispers, the fight drained out of her.

“Why?” I ask, perplexed.

“Because I don’t want you and Vaughn mixed up in this. You both could have been killed today. This is my problem. I’ll handle it.”

“How?” My voice is low and rough.

“I’ll talk to him, make him some offers. And doing a little stripping isn’t that big of a deal. It’s just taking your clothes off. I can manage that for a few months to pay back the debt.”

“Like hell you will.” I sound mad, and dammit, I am. The thought of all those men watching her, trying to touch her—it makes me sick.

It occurs to me that I’ve never felt jealousy like this with any of the girls I’ve dated here in Bittersweet. But I remember feeling it when I caught my high school girlfriend making out with a football player after the homecoming game. I got over it—and her—but I remember the sick-deep-in-my-gut feeling I had that night. This is even worse.

She tenses up underneath me. “Just because you’re my cousin’s friend doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do,” she snaps at me.

I sigh then give my head a little shake to clear it. I seem to have a hard time thinking rationally when Carly’s near.

“Look, I’m not just Vaughn’s friend. I’m yours too, right? Come on, Carly. You can’t expect me to just let you go sell yourself to this guy. I mean, it could end up being a lot worse than taking your clothes off, you know?”
      She wiggles and grunts, and I realize that I’m still lying on top of the girl. She’s right. I ought to get off her. But instead, I lower my head. She quits moving and I hear her breath hitch.

Any hopes that I might do the right thing here are long gone. I run my nose along the line of her neck, breathing in her scent. It’s lavender, and I feel her soft, thick hair brush my face.

“Carly?” I whisper in her ear.

She makes a little noise that shoots straight to my dick. I slip the tip of my tongue out and touch it to her earlobe. When she makes the noise again, I’m a goner. I move my face in alignment with hers. I can smell her lips. Cherry lip gloss. We both freeze, our breath coming hard and fast. She shifts underneath me, bringing her knees up so my lower half is cradled between her thighs.

It’s like fingers of electricity are playing along my skin. Every part of me is tense, on alert, ready to explode. I run my hand from her wrist down her side to her waist, where I meet up with soft, smooth skin as her T-shirt has slid up.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you at the beach,” I pant as I place a kiss along her jaw and then her silky neck. “You’re so beautiful, Carly,” I whisper.

“Pax,” she pants out, arching into me. “Pax.”

My lips lower to hers and I touch my tongue to those cherry pillows. She opens to me immediately and I feel her silky tongue against mine and I can’t help but groan and grind my pelvis against her hot center.

Our mouths move in sync, teeth, tongues, lips, pressing, stroking, thrusting. It’s the sexiest damn kiss I’ve ever felt in my life. I move my hand up her side, until I meet up with the underneath side of her breast. I palm the firm mound and when I reach her nipple we both gasp at once.

I grind against her again, relishing the sensations of her soft places on my hard ones.

“God, Pax…”

“What, angel?” I ask.

“I think…”

The sounds of shattering glass and the percussion of the front door exploding inward are deafening in the silent night. I cover Carly’s head with my hands before I feel myself being yanked upright, and someone’s fist crashes into my jaw, turning everything to black.

Part Two

“Pax? Pax!” The voice is hissing in my ear, and I slap at its owner, not wanting to wake up.

“Nooo,” I whine. My sister is such a pain in the ass when she wakes me up on the weekends. Why she thinks I should entertain her on Saturdays, I have no idea, but if she doesn’t stop buzzing in my ear like this, I’m not going to be responsible for the results.

“Lyric!” I finally snap.

“Who’s Lyric?” the voice asks.

Wait. What?

I open one eye and find a hot girl watching me with a worried face. Shit. Carly. It all comes rushing back, and I try to sit up too fast.

“Holy hell, that hurts,” I moan as I stop midway to sitting, leaning on one of my elbows and rubbing my jaw with my other hand.

“Don’t try to move around too fast,” she instructs. “You were out for a while.”

“No kidding? What the hell happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asks.

I manage to sit all the way up and realize we’re on a concrete floor in a closet of some sort. It’s almost dark, and it smells musty.

“Uh…” I clear my throat and look at her, one eyebrow raised, my mind traveling back to the last thing I remember—her sweet curves pressed against me. Suddenly, I’m feeling much better.

Apparently, my memories are written all over my face.

“Besides that,” she grits out, crossing her arms over her middle, plumping up those same curves in the process.

I stare, fascinated, until she clears her throat and scowls at me. “A loud noise, the door smashing open, then nothing. That’s it.”

“Good,” she says, looking in my eyes, but not romantically—more like clinically. “Maybe you don’t have a concussion.”

I laugh. “What are you? An eighteen-year-old doctor?”

She glares at me, and I think it’s pretty darn cute.

“No, but I’ve heard stuff about the signs of concussions. I played soccer in high school. We got concussion information all the time.”

“Well, I’ve
had
concussions before, and I survived. So even if I do have one now, it’s not the end of the world.”

“In case you’re wondering, the big crash at your house was the bad guys breaking the door down. And then they threw us into a van and brought us here. It’s some warehouse. The van didn’t have windows, so I couldn’t tell what part of town we’re in, but it took us about ten minutes to get here from your house, and we went in a pretty straight line, as if we were driving along the coast. I figure we’re at the docks. There are tons of these warehouses at the docks.”

I stand, dizziness coming in waves. “You sound like you’re an expert in these kinds of things.”

She shrugs as she follows me. “My dad taught me a few things along the way.”

Sadness flashes over her perfect features and it makes my heart ache. What girl her age should have to be taught how to track clues when a pimp slash loan shark kidnaps you?

“So, did he teach you how to get the hell
out
of a warehouse down at the docks?”

She leans against the wall and shakes her head. “Not without a gun,” she answers.

“I’m betting you don’t have one of those,” I try to joke.

“You’d win that bet.”

All of a sudden, I remember Vaughn. “Oh God, Vaughn?” I ask her, bile swirling around in my gut.

“They didn’t get him. I don’t think they even knew he was there. They grabbed us and got out of there so fast he never had a chance to help.”

I pace around the small room, rubbing my jaw, which still aches.

“Well, that’s a good thing. He’ll be looking for us, and hopefully, he’ll get the police doing the same.”

She stiffens at the mention of the cops.

“Look, you can’t keep the police out of this, Carly. I’m sure your dad didn’t have much use for them, but honestly, I say we go with whatever will get us the hell out of here. I don’t know about you, but I have a lot of stuff I want to do before I die and this wasn’t on the list.”
      She sighs and crosses her arms. “What are they?”

“What?” I scrunch up my face at her.

“What are these plans you have?” She slides down and sits, her back against the wall, knees pulled up.

I walk over and sit down next to her, mimicking her pose. “I want to make it big in music,” I say. There’s a twinge deep in my gut whenever I say the dream out loud. Like I’m rolling over and showing someone my underbelly. I want it so much, it’s become the weakest part of me.

“Like how big? ‘World tour’ big?” She’s smiling, thinking I’m off my rocker, having no idea who my family is, of course.

“Um, yeah. Maybe. At least big enough that I can write my own ticket, live a good life, and make the music I want to.”