Fighting Blind (3 page)

Three Years Earlier

Mackenzie

Charlie’s is packed for a Tuesday night. I don’t mind. I need the extra tips. Two more weeks and I’ll have enough to finally get out of my house and away from my mom’s new drug dealing boyfriend, and the little
favors
he’s been asking of me.

At first, it was just small things, picking up and dropping off packages. I didn’t realize what they were until one of his clients opened the parcel in front of me. I don’t know much about drugs, never touched the stuff, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t oregano in the bag.

I refused to make another delivery after that. Stefano just glared at me with his dark, gargoyle-like eyes. I’d thought I’d won until I came home later that day and found my mom barely conscious on the floor, her face bruised, lip bleeding.

Of course, she wouldn’t admit what happened, but I knew it was a warning.

I’ve made every delivery he’s asked of me since. But once I get out of there, I’m finished.

“Order up.” One of the cooks slams his palm down on steel pass-through, making me jump.

“That’s yours, Mac,” Sarah says, tapping a new order into the new computer system we got last month. She curses when the screen freezes. “Oh, and table twenty-three is asking for you.”

“Got it. Thanks.” I stack the plates of burgers, fries and wraps onto my tray and move through the crowd. We’re usually closing up by now, but it’s homecoming and the entire town has turned into one giant party.

After I drop the food off, I take a deep breath and head to the boisterous table of guys swinging their empty beer bottles in my direction. 

“Another round.” The words are slurred, but not enough to warrant cutting the man off.

“Last call.” I ignore the way the guy ogles my ass when I lean over to collect the empty beer bottles. 

“In that case, bring a round of
Jägerbombs.” He gives me a crooked smile, and I notice that he’s actually kind of cute. “And bring one for yourself.”

“Can’t drink on the job.” Plus, I’m still two years away from being legal, but I don’t tell him that. 

He grips my wrist when I turn to walk away. “Maybe some other time.”

“Doubtful.” I roll my arm to break his hold and ignore his friend’s raucous laughter as I walk away.

“Your hottie is here.” Sarah nudges me and glances towards the front door.

I look over my shoulder and Theo gives me a dimpled grin when our eyes meet. He’s with a couple of his fight club buddies, and by the looks of them, they’ve been drinking. He points towards the bar, before heading in the same direction.

“He’s just a friend,” I mumble.

“Right.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “So you wouldn’t mind if I hooked up with him?”

I look at Sarah, all legs and boobs, and my stomach twists. “Of course not.”

“Good.” She wiggles her eyebrows, then laughs when I frown and turn away.

After I punch in the drink order, I make my way to the bar.

Theo and his friends have a row of tequila shots lined up.  

“What’s going on?” I frown at Theo when he slams the shot back. He doesn’t drink. Ever.

“Did you get my texts?” Theo places a heavy arm over my shoulder and leans on me heavily.

“It’s been busy.” I almost stumble with the weight of him. “Is everything all right?”

“Better than all right. I got approved for the mortgage. The gym is mine.”

“Oh my God. That’s amazing.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

The muscles in his shoulders bunch and tense under my hands. I stay in his arms longer than I should.

His hands rest on my lower back and his warm breath tickles my neck.

When I pull back, his expression has gone dark.

“What’s wrong?”

He clears his throat and drops his hands. His voice is strained when he says, “Nothing.”

“I’ve got to deliver these drinks. I’ll be another hour before I can go home, but if you want to share a cab…”

His buddies have managed to round up three of the sluttiest girls in the bar, and are tossing back a second round of tequila shots. I see Theo’s gaze drift towards them.

“Unless you have other plans.”

Theo shakes his head. “I’ll wait.”

“Okay.” Something changed in his demeanor, and I feel like he’s upset with me about something. I shake it off. Whatever it is, Theo never stays mad at me for long.

After I drop off the
J
ägerbombs, I grab the overflowing trash bags from the kitchen area and take them out back. It’s my least favorite part of my job, but Sarah refuses to do it. She says the back alleyway freaks her out.

The floodlight makes the shadows appear darker than they are, illuminating only a small square of the alley. A cat hisses somewhere nearby and a man shouts from an apartment above. The smell of rotting garbage makes my stomach turn. As quickly as I can, I hoist the bags into the green metal bin.

“Mackenzie Brooks?” A deep voice growls from the shadows.

My heart lurches to my throat and I twist around so quickly I’m sure I tear a couple muscles in my back.

“What do you want?” I inch my way closer to the door.

The man moves towards me, but the shadows still hide his face. He’s tall, well over six feet, and there are dark markings which I assume are tattoos covering his exposed forearms. He’s holding something large in his hand.

“I’ve got a package for your stepfather.”

Stefano.
I should have known.

“He’s not my stepfather.”

The man grunts and throws a bag at my feet, causing me to jump back.

“Give this to him.”

“I’m not his mule.” I look down at the bag at my feet and curse under my breath. When I glance back at the shadows, the man is gone.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

Want am I going to do? I can’t leave it here. Stefano would kill me. Or worse.

I pick up the dirty, army-style backpack. It’s heavy. Really heavy.

With my stomach in knots, I sneak through the kitchen and into the staff room, shoving the bag in my locker, and covering it with a sweatshirt.

I exhale a slow, steadying breath.

This is last time. I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.

The rest of my shift I try to stay focused, but with the bag of God-knows-what in my locker, and Theo glowering at me from the bar, I’m a mess.

“Why don’t you head home,” Sarah says, when I drop the ketchup bottle I was trying to refill. She helps me pick the broken pieces off the floor. “I can close up. Plus, I think you might want to take broody-eyes home. He looks ready to pass out at the bar, but he says he won’t leave without you.”

I glance over at Theo who’s swaying on his stool, staring into his empty glass.

“He doesn’t usually drink.”

Sarah shrugs. “Go home. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thanks.”

I sign out, tally up my cash, then go to the back to grab my sweater and purse. The backpack is there waiting for me. I place my forehead on the cool metal of the locker and close my eyes.

“You okay?” Theo’s slurred voice floats through the room.

I turn around. “You’re not allowed back here.”

“Sarah said you’re ready to go.” His words run together almost incoherently.

“I am.” I grab the bag and close my locker, praying Theo doesn’t ask me about it. He has no idea what Stefano has been asking me to do. And I plan on keeping it that way. I’m pretty sure Theo would kick the shit out of him if he ever found out.

There’s a small line of cabs lined up outside of Charlie’s. Theo opens the door of the first one and I hop in, placing the bag on the floor beside my feet.

“Ten-fifty Third Street,” Theo says, shutting the door behind him.

“I was hoping you could drop me off at home.” I glance nervously at the bag, then out the window. The thought of holding onto the bag any longer than I have to sends a shiver down my spine.

“You’re not coming over?” He frowns, leaning his lead against the back of the seat, rubbing his temples. His fingers curl around mine on the seat and my heart flutters in my chest. I look at him, but he still has his eyes closed. “I thought we could watch a movie or something.”

Or something?
There’s something different in his voice when he says those two words. And was Theo Ryan actually holding my hand? What was going on?

He’s drunk, that’s what. That’s all this is. But even knowing that I can’t pull my hand away.

Still, how long have I craved this intimacy from him?

“Okay,” I say, unable to look away from our conjoined fingers.

Hope and fear war within me.

A second later, the cab is filled with Theo’s soft snores.

His palm is calloused, hard, but the warmth of his skin sets my entire body on fire.

We’re friends. Nothing more. He’s never seen me as anything but. Still…maybe there’s a chance that we could be more.

It’s a lot to risk. I shake my head, studying him, memorizing each line of his face. The soft fullness of his bottom lip.

Just one taste…

Damn. Who was I kidding? Even if he wasn’t my best friend, he was way out of my league. Guys like Theo didn’t fall for girls like me.

Why chance ruining our friendship for something that could never be.

When we pull up to Theo’s apartment, I shake him awake. He staggers from the car and I have to help him into the elevator. He’s a good seventy pounds heavier, and at least a foot taller, so by the time I get him through the doors and onto bed, I fall down beside him, exhausted.

“I don’t like you drunk.”

He grunts and rolls towards me, and a heavy arm flops across my chest. “You like me.”

His breath is hot on my cheek, his hard body pressed against my side.

I can’t move. I don’t want to move.

“Theo?”

“Mmm?” He snuggles closer, his hand roaming up my body.

When his palm cups my breast, I inhale sharply.

He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But it feels so good and I don’t want him to stop. His mouth nuzzles against my neck, and the warmth of his breath sends heat racing through me.

Without thinking, my hands go to the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly, so that my fingers can trace the hard lines of his stomach. Despite the tightness of his muscles, his skin is soft.

“Theo, we shouldn’t.” I swallow hard, and despite my protest I don’t do anything to stop him.

I want this.
Him.
More than I’ve ever wanted anything.

His erection presses against my thigh, his hands roaming almost frantically across my body. I feel like I’m in sensory overload. His touch consumes me, and I need more.

I shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong on so many levels. It could destroy everything between us. I wouldn’t know what I’d do without Theo in my life. I can’t be just one of his girls.

“Theo.” I press my hands against his chest and push, but he barely budges. “You’re drunk–”

“You smell so fucking good.” His mouth crashes against mine in a scorching kiss.

He pushes his hand underneath my shirt, pulling it over my breasts. The cool air on my exposed skin makes me shiver, but his hands are on me again, warming me, pushing me, making me feel things I’ve only dreamed about.

His tongue slips between my lips, and he groans into my mouth. He tastes like tequila and citrus.

I pull at his shirt, needing to feel the heat of his skin against mine. He pulls back slightly, pulling the material over his head.

Hard, chiselled abs, strong broad shoulders. He’s perfection. I want to capture the moment. Lock it in my memory. Because I know it won’t last. I try not to think about the consequences, what I might lose.

Theo doesn’t give me time to think. His mouth is on my breast, licking, sucking at the nipple until a cry out from the pure pleasure of it.

His fingers move to the fly of my jeans.

My pulse thuds in my ear, drowning out the warning bells that ring in my head.

Even drunk, his movements are fluid, as if he’s done this a thousand times. Which I know he has. He’s never flaunted his sex life in front of me, but girls talk, and I’ve heard the Theo Ryan stories. Too many to count.

My pants are off, tossed to the side of the bed. His hand trails up my inner thigh, and heat pools between my legs.

His fingers are like fire against my skin, awakening a myriad of sensations all at once.

He moves lower, positioning himself between my legs, and is mouth is on me before I know what he’s doing. His tongue strokes my inner thigh, while a finger slips my panties to the side.

Oh, God.

My clit pulses to life when he trails his tongue over the sensitive bud.