Everything for Us (A Bad Boys Novel) (23 page)

THIRTY-NINE

Nash

Another three weeks later

It feels strange to be worrying about my property. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything of real value, anything much in the way of possessions. And now, leaving the boat at the dock in Savannah while I travel into Atlanta makes me nervous. It would suck buckets of shit if something happened to it. A huge chunk of my life’s savings is wrapped up in that thing.

I smile as I think of how it all happened.

The morning after I left those two girls at the club in Naples, Italy, I decided to gather the crew and head out a little earlier than planned. They weren’t as easy to find as I expected. It was while I was on the yacht, docked in the marina, waiting for them, that I was approached by a man interested in chartering a private yacht to take him and his wife on a two-week sail for their anniversary. I explained to him that it wasn’t my boat. He was persistent, though. I don’t know if he just didn’t believe me, or if he thought I was trying to drive the price up, but he kept on. The amount of money he offered me was staggering. It wasn’t enough to get me to take him and his wife on for two weeks—I knew I couldn’t in good conscience make that kind of commitment until the trial was over—but it was more than enough to get me thinking.

Now, in just three short weeks, my life already feels different. I have roots. Sort of. And I have a profession. Sort of. And I have some kind of a future.

Okay, so maybe it’s not quite the one I dreamed of as a kid, but it fits in with what my life has become, with what
I
have become. And maybe, it just might be enough to fill the emptiness that’s been plaguing me.

Maybe.

As always, any time Marissa comes to mind, she takes over for a while. Sometimes it’s harder than others to get her off my mind. The closer I get to her, the harder it’s getting. And it was pretty damn hard, anyway!

The trial is coming to a close. Cash called to let me know that Marissa and her cohorts were preparing for closing arguments. After that, the jury would go deliberate. No one knew how long that might take, so he told me to get my ass back to the States as fast as I could. He and Dad wanted me there for the verdict. So that’s what I did.

I’m making it just in the nick of time. The jury went into deliberation this morning. I could’ve missed it had they not decided to break for the day, have dinner, and go back into sequestration.

I’m trying not to see that as a bad sign—their inability to come to a quick decision. Instead, I’m grateful that I’m gonna make it in time to be with Dad and Cash.

Luckily, I was already on my way back to the States. I was heading back with the intention of offering to take Cash and Olivia as my first charters, sort of test the waters with them.

Pun intended.

I snort at the mental image I have of Cash rolling his eyes at my wit. The cabdriver looks back at me and I glare at him until he turns away. Then I smile. My anger isn’t what it once was, but I still intimidate people for some reason. I get a kick out of it sometimes, just like with this guy. He probably thinks I’m a hit man or something. It doesn’t help that I don’t try to disabuse him of that notion. I guess old habits die hard. In my previous line of work, the image of being a dangerous man can save your life. If you’re in it long enough, you
become
that dangerous man. I suppose a look like that never leaves you completely.

That’s something you’ll have to work on if you expect to get any clients. No one wants to go out to sea with a guy they think might kill them in their sleep and take all their money.

And here she comes again.

Marissa.

As usual, any time I think of the future, I think of her. And how she won’t be a part of it. And why I even would want her to be. Sometimes, I don’t fight her image. I just let her have her way for a while. I don’t do it often. It always ends up with me either aching for that delicious little body of hers or aching for her in a soul-deep kind of way that I don’t know what to do with. But every now and again, I can’t resist the temptation of just thinking about her. And every now and then, of what life could’ve been like.

If only things were different . . .

* * *

My phone wakes me. I must’ve fallen asleep in the cab with a vision of Marissa dancing in my head like those damn Christmas sugarplums. I pull the noisy rectangle out of my pocket and glance at the screen. It’s Cash.

“I’m on my way,” I say as a greeting.

“The jury called to come back after dinner. They reached a decision.”

“Oh shit!” I sit up straight and look around for some indication of where I’m at. I see a mile marker flit by. “I’m still a good two hours away, man. How long until they’re going back to court?”

“They’re getting everyone back now.”

I sigh.

Damn!

“Maybe they’ll piddle around and I’ll still make it. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted.”

“Sure thing.”

After we hang up, I feel the nervous energy start. I can’t seem to sit still in the backseat. I feel like I should be doing something to hurry this god-awful ride along. But there’s nothing I can do. All I know is that there’s no way in the deepest part of hell that I’ll be falling asleep again.

* * *

One hour and twenty-three minutes later, my phone rings. It’s Cash again.

“What’s going on?”

“Guilty. On all charges.” He’s about to bust. I can hear it in his voice. It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. Then I’m flip-flopping between elation that we won and irritation that I missed being with them for the verdict.

“Holy fu—Holy crap, man! That’s great news! Hot damn! Hot.
Damn!
”

Cash whoops into the phone and his excitement pushes me more toward elation and less toward irritation. There will be lots to celebrate tonight. Lots.

I hear him laughing. And, in the background, I hear feminine voices laughing, too. They’re already celebrating.

“So what’s next?”

Cash collects himself enough to answer me. “Sentencing. I don’t know when that will happen yet, but Georgia state law set a maximum sentence of twenty years for a RICO conviction. I hope they get every day of it! We’re already discussing civil suits, too. And then, of course, there will be Dad’s appeal, since Duffy admitted to . . . what he did. I’ll get Duffy’s signed affidavit and start the process as soon as I can.”

I know how Cash feels. It’s hard to say it sometimes, to say out loud that our mother was murdered. Especially on a day like today, a day full of good things.

Cash is hurried and vague. And I know why. It’s the same reason it’s hard to talk about Mom. Today is a day for celebration. This was a huge victory. Tomorrow, there will be plenty of time for . . . everything else.

“Well, we can talk about all that later. Right now, we’ve got some celebrating to do. Where are you gonna be?”

“Just come to the club. We’ll be taking over the VIP room tonight.”

I like the sound of that. “Sounds good, man. See you in an hour or so.”

FORTY

Marissa

I must admit, I can see why criminal prosecutors become obsessed with their jobs. Not only is the fight consuming, but the verdict . . . Oh God! There are few better feelings I’ve experienced in life than getting the conviction, none of which took place in a courtroom.

Velvety black eyes flash through my mind, and I push them out.

Not today. Let me just have this one day of peace and happiness.

It was hard enough not seeing him for the verdict. Olivia had said he would be there, and the disappointment was pretty devastating when he didn’t show up. But I’m past that. I’m trying to just enjoy the glow of victory. I know it won’t feel complete without him, but that’s something I’ll have to get used to. I doubt anything in life will ever feel complete without Nash. I
hope
it will. I truly, truly hope so. But something in me doubts it ever will.

I take the next left, drawing ever closer to Dual. Rather than show up there in my work clothes, I opted to go home and change before heading over to join in the festivities. I have a feeling there will be drinking and celebrating into the wee hours and I wanted to be comfortable for it. The jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt—my nod to the early spring nip in the night air—have already put me at ease.

I walk through the front door of the club, speaking to Gavin as I pass.

“You working the door tonight?”

“Yeah. Evidently there’s been an unexpected party upstairs that’s left us a bit shorthanded. Maybe I’ll get lucky down here with some young bucks that need a lesson in ass-kicking. Or maybe a beautiful attorney will need a ride home.”

The wink of his blue, blue eye assures me he’s teasing. He’s an incorrigible flirt.

“Well, if it’s calm, come up and have a drink. We’ve got a lot to celebrate today.”

“So I hear. I guess congratulations are in order to you, as well. That’s some show you must’ve put on out there.”

I shrug, pleasantly flattered. “Well, it wasn’t just me. There were a lot of people responsible for tonight’s success.”

“There’s nothing hotter than a gorgeous woman who doesn’t know how to take a compliment.”

I laugh.

Incorrigible!

“Then I’ll just say thank you and be on my way. How’s that?”

“You don’t have to rush off now.”

“Cash might have my hide if I distract you from your work.”

“Don’t you worry about Cash, pretty little dove. I’ll take care of him.”

His smile is devilish and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. I laugh again, shaking my head at him. “You could be dangerous,” I say as I turn and make my way toward the stairs.

“Only in the best possible way,” I hear him say before the ambient sounds drown out his voice.

Stopping on the top step, in front of the door, I smile. I can hear the wild celebration coming from inside the VIP room, even above the loud music from downstairs in the club. And that’s saying a lot.

I open the door to find chaos. I give all the faces a cursory glance. Except for the bartender, whom I haven’t seen before, I recognize everyone. Each was involved in the trial in some form or fashion, from Cindy, the paralegal who dug up some invaluable information for us on more than one occasion, to Stephen, the court reporter. We all got to know him very well over the past few months, too.

During a case like the one we just won, a bond is formed that gives you the feeling that this is your family-away-from-family. Or, in my case, my family-in-place-of-my-family. I learned to trust and depend on them in ways I’ve never felt comfortable doing with the people in my life, family or not. All in all, this was one of the most treasured, rewarding experiences of my life.

But where to go now?

The troubling thought sneaks in before I can stop it, stealing my smile for a second. But before I can start stressing over life questions like that, Jensen yells at me from across the room where he’s waiting at the bar.

He grabs two shot glasses and starts toward me. All eyes turn in my direction and I feel my smile return. Just for tonight, I refuse to think of anything more serious than what to drink next.

Jensen stops in front of me and the room gets quiet. Well, as quiet as a room situated above a club filled with this many people can get. Jensen clears his throat.

“To the woman of the hour, without whom we probably wouldn’t have been handed down a victory.” He raises his glass, as does everyone else in the room. “To Marissa.”

The glow of adulation is surpassed only by the lump of emotion in my throat. I toss back my shot, wondering for a second if the liquid can pass the obstruction. But it does. And it burns all the way down, making my eyes water.

“Marissa!” Everyone yells.

I feel a laugh bubble up just as Jensen wraps his arm around my waist and swings me around. I let the laugh go, thinking that this might be the first night in a long, long time that I can find some semblance of happiness.

Until he sets me on my feet and my eyes collide with Nash’s.

FORTY-ONE

Nash

Of all the things I expected to see when I walked in, that shit wasn’t even on the list. Jensen’s arms wrapped around Marissa, her laughing and clinging to him. All their friends crowded around, cheering them on. A room full of people I don’t belong with.

More than ever, I see that this is no longer my world. And it never will be. I don’t fit in here. Buying the boat and planning for a life at sea was a good choice. I guess I just always thought that someday . . . Maybe . . .

Marissa’s smile dies as I watch. Jensen sets her on her feet and I slide my eyes over to him. He’s staring at me. I squelch the urge to walk over and rip his throat out.

I glance around the room. Everyone is staring at me. I know only a few of them. Not that it would make any difference if I knew them all. These aren’t my people. This isn’t my world. But it’s hers. And it will forever separate us. A gulf. A chasm. An immeasurable ocean.

Turning away from her, I locate Cash. He’s grinning from ear to ear. It reminds me to keep this all in perspective. Ultimately, we got what we wanted. The men behind my mother’s death and my father’s subsequent incarceration are going to prison for a long time. And Duffy, even though he was the actual triggerman and deserves a painful death, will be on the run for the rest of his life. He’ll have to leave this country if he doesn’t accept witness protection. Either way, life as he knows it is over. Maybe that’s an even better punishment. I choose to look at it that way. It’s the only way I can really let it go.

And I need to do that. I need to take this victory and move on.

To what?

I push the question out of my mind, reminding myself that I have a plan and that’s that. I ignore the bright blue eyes that drift through my mind, the ones I can practically feel burning a hole through me.

I walk to my brother and stop in front of him. I stick out my hand and he takes it. He pumps it several times as we smile at each other. Impulsively, I pull him in for a hug. We clap each other on the back.

I lean away from him. He’s still smiling broadly.

“It’s over, man. It’s finally over,” he says, obviously relieved.

I nod. “Finally.”

On what should be the happiest day, I feel bereft. And partying is the last thing I want to do right now. But I don’t want anyone to see me struggle, so I ask Cash quietly, “Can I use your apartment for a little while? I need to clean up.”

I see the crease appear between his eyebrows for an instant before it smooths out. “Sure.”

I nod and turn, walking straight from the room and not looking back.

What the hell did you expect to happen?

I chastise myself as I make my way down the steps and across the floor of the crowded club. Evidently, on some level, I thought Marissa would be thrilled to see me, that she’d declare that she’s been miserable without me, beg me to take her with me and we’d sail off into the sunset. As ridiculous as that sounds, that’s the scenario that I had hidden somewhere deep, deep down.

You’re a fuc—You’re an idiot!

It infuriates me that I’m still censoring myself for her, like she gives a shit. Like she can hear me. Like she cares. I mutter a blistering string of raunchy expletives as I stomp into Cash’s office and slam the door shut behind me.

I walk through to his apartment and slam that door as well, feeling infinitesimally better having gotten some of my aggression out. What would really help me is the opportunity to beat the hell out of that stuffed shirt that was wrapped around Marissa. But since that wouldn’t win me points with anyone and would likely land me in jail, I settle for flinging my duffel across the room and heading for the shower.

I barely turn the cold spigot on. The burn of the hot water temporarily deadens the intensity of everything else. By the time I get out, my skin is on fire, but it calms soon enough, leaving me right back at square one.

Before getting dressed, I stretch out across the bed to let the air dry me. I concentrate on the dull throb of the music outside and will my anger away.

I make myself think of things I can control, or things that give me some small amount of peace, like Dad getting out of prison or watching the bright red sun set over the clear waters of the Caribbean.

I don’t know how long I lie there. The noise from the club outside two closed doors seems less and I can’t find a clock in the dark room to tell me the time.

I get up and get dressed, looking out into the office at the clock on the wall. I’ve been down here for almost two hours.

How the hell did that happen?

I head back out into the club. The crowd has thinned considerably. Looks like the night is winding down. Of course, it
is
a weeknight . . .

I glance up at the two-way glass that fronts the VIP room. I don’t know if they’re still up there, but I suppose I should at least make an appearance before I ask Cash for his car and get the hell out of here. The quiet of his condo will do just fine for the night. Anything to be away from here. Away from her.

I take the steps two at a time. Before I can reach the top, the door opens and Jensen appears in the opening, shuffling a wobbly Marissa toward the steps.

“I told you I’m fine to drive,” she slurs.

“And I told you there’s no way I’m letting you leave here behind the wheel.”

“But you’re drunk, too. Who’s gonna drive?”

“I’m not
that
drunk,” he’s saying.

I stop in the center of the steps, crossing my arms over my chest. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah. This one wants to go home, but she’s had too much to drink.”

“And you? Have you been drinking?”

“Not that much.”

“
Any
is too much to be driving her home. I’ll take her.”

“That’s all right, Cash. I’ve got her.”

He starts to lead Marissa around me. I don’t know what makes me angrier—him calling me Cash or seeing his hands on Marissa again.

Who the hell are you kidding? You know
exactly
which one it
is!

“I’m gonna have to insist,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t want to make a scene. Not because I’m personally opposed to kicking this guy’s ass on the steps of a club, but because it would embarrass Cash and probably Marissa. And it’s them that I care about. Not me. And certainly not this pompous piece of shit.

“Insist all you like, I’m taking her home.”

His pale eyes are challenging me. For some reason, it strikes me as funny. He has no clue what I’d do to him if I let loose. No. Clue.

“You don’t want to do this, lawyer boy. Trust me.”

“Maybe I do,” he says, his bravado increased by his alcohol consumption.

“Hey!” Marissa shouts. “Boys. Please. I’m driving myself home, so you can both put it back in your pants.” She giggles at her words and pulls her arm out of Jensen’s grasp.

She attempts to walk past me, stumbles, and falls against my side. I reach out to steady her and she melts against me. She looks up into my face and smiles. “Sorry.”

“Let me take you home,” I say quietly.

She stares deeply into my eyes, like she’s trying to see . . . something. I don’t know what, but evidently she finds it. She nods. “Okay.”

“Marissa, I—” Jensen begins, but I cut him off when I plant my palm in the center of his chest, stopping him in his tracks when he would take a step toward her. I don’t even bother to look at him; I keep my eyes trained on Marissa’s sparkling blue ones.

“Last chance,” I warn.

Marissa looks to her left. “Jensen, it’s all right. I appreciate it, but we’ve both had too much to drink to be driving.”

I hear him sigh and, perversely, I hope he keeps pushing it. I’m itching to teach this prick a lesson. But on the other hand, I wish he’d just shut his mouth and go away. Right now, what I’d like even more than smashing lawyer boy’s face is Marissa. Just Marissa. And what I see when I look into her blue, blue eyes.

From the corner of my eye, I see him turn and stomp back up the steps. With him gone, my focus is complete. And so, for a few minutes, anyway, is my soul.

“Can you make it down the stairs okay?”

She nods and turns to take another step toward the bottom. She wobbles and I steady her.

“Whoa,” she says.

Without asking, I sweep her up into my arms and carry her down to the landing. I’m sure I could safely put her down now. But I don’t. I carry her out the door and into the chilly night.

“Where are you parked?”

“Over there,” she says, pointing out and to the right, then laying her head on my shoulder. She loops her arms loosely around my neck and snuggles in. I pull her in tighter against my chest. It’s like she was made to fit there. Perfectly. In my arms.

Holy shit, woman! What have you done to me?

When we reach her car, she digs her keys out of her pocket and hands them to me. I hit the fob and hear the hushed click of the locks opening. I set Marissa on her feet long enough to open the passenger door and get her inside without cracking her head.

On the drive home, neither of us says anything. I glance over at her several times to see if she’s asleep. She’s not. Each time, she looks back at me, holding my gaze but never speaking.

Anticipation is so thick inside the quiet interior of the car, it’s almost palpable. It’s made me diamond-hard behind my zipper.

I park at Marissa’s and come around the car to get her out. She starts up the sidewalk, but I stop her, picking her up to carry her again.

“I can walk,” she says, but still she nuzzles her face against my neck. She probably
can
walk, but she doesn’t really
want
to walk. And I don’t want to let her.

I don’t respond, just carry her to the door, hand her the keys, and bend enough that she can unlock the knob and deadbolt.

Once inside, I kick the door shut behind me and set her on her feet. I don’t want to be
too
presumptuous, so I wait to see what she’s going to say. Or do.

In the low light spilling in through the glass panel at the top of the door, we stare at each other. Silent. Thoughtful. There’s a lot I’d like to say, but I can’t. I shouldn’t. I won’t. There’s no reason to. It won’t change anything. And if she doesn’t feel the same, it would kill me. But if she does, it would be even worse, I think.

I reach up and rub the backs of my fingers down her satiny cheek. She tilts her head into the touch. When I bend down and take her lips, the kiss isn’t as feverish and desperate as I figured it would be. There’s something sad and . . . final about it. I don’t know who is making it feel that way, her or me. But it has a definite “the end” ring to it.

For the first time in my life, I make love to a woman. I’ve had sex hundreds of times, with too many women to count. I’ve done dirty, wicked things to them. Hell, I’ve done dirty, wicked things to Marissa. And I’d like to do more. But tonight isn’t about that. Not even if I wanted it to be. Tonight is about leaving her with the other piece of my soul, the small part she hasn’t already taken.

With every article of clothing I strip from her body, more than ever, I’m aware of the smell of her perfume, the silk of her skin. It’s as though all my senses are heightened and completely concentrated on her. Every soft place, every sweet sigh, every delicate shiver will be forever burned into my mind. I’m not sure that’s a good thing, but it doesn’t matter. No consequence is enough to stop me.

From the time I first slide into her warm body, all the way through the last squeeze of her orgasm, I’m aware that we’re giving each other a bittersweet, wordless good-bye. For these few minutes, I’m happier than I can ever remember being. And sadder. And forever, I’ll be a better man for just having known Marissa. She healed the breaks in me that I thought I’d die with, that I’d never live to overcome. Because of her, I have some semblance of a life to go to now.

My breathing is just returning to normal when I feel the first wet splash on my skin. Marissa is lying with one of her legs thrown over mine and her head on my chest. And she’s crying. I feel each tear as it falls from her face. They’re only slightly warm, but they burn nonetheless.

“Will you be gone when I wake up?” she whispers, her voice catching on the last word.

I think about her question before I answer it. I hadn’t really made any kind of plan, but I know now what I have to do. “Yes.”

I feel her shoulders shake as she sobs. Each one feels like a fist squeezing tighter and tighter around my heart.

Suddenly, she moves, levering herself off me and rolling off the bed. She doesn’t turn to look at me. She just squares her shoulders and walks tall and proud across the room. “Good-bye, Nash,” she says softly. Then she disappears into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. I sit up in the bed, stunned, until I hear the shower cut on.

One thing runs through my head as I dress and call for a cab.

It’s for the best. It’s for the best. It’s for the best.

She still hasn’t come out of the bathroom by the time the cab arrives. I know those are the last words she’ll ever say to me.