Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (17 page)

He slid farther out. “You can count on it.”

The man was impossible. He was going to force her to say it. She might feel it, but saying it was . . . difficult. She tried to move, to get him to change the subject but nothing worked and she needed him to move, like she needed her next breath. “Slater, I love you.”

The only movement was his eyebrow. “You can do better than that. Come on, once more with feeling.”

She reached up and kissed him, dragged her mouth away from his and looked right into his eyes. “Slater, I love you but if you don’t start moving, I might be forced to hurt you.”

“Now that was real.” He slid back in and laughed. “Grace and Teddy were right.”

How he could do what he was doing and carry on a conversation was beyond her. “’Bout what?”

“The man who ends up with you will certainly have his hands full. Lucky for you, I love pushy broads.”

He’d pay for that . . .

But then he went and did something magical that made her feel amazing and she was more intent on having another orgasm than in retribution, so she went with it.

He’d pay later.

Much later.

And if she didn’t survive this round, she’d haunt him because that’s just the kind of girl she was.

The flashing lights on Rocki’s phone woke her. She grabbed it and tried to focus her eyes. “Patrice?”

“Rocki, you’ve been gone for days and you didn’t think to call me?”

“Three days, and I’ve been a little busy.” She stretched and tried to get some of the kinks out. It was going to take a hot bath or at least a very long shower. Alone. “Besides, Slater’s talked to Pete. I figured he’d pass the word.”

“Yes, he did, but it’s not the same, girl, and you know it.”

“Right, it’s that horse’s mouth thing again, isn’t it? And today, I’m the horse?”

“You’d be correct. Now hurry, before I have to leave to pick up the girls from school and preschool.”

Slater was nowhere to be found. “What do you want to know?”

“How’s your brother?”

“Better. Thanks for asking. They should be able to remove the tube today. Except for a wicked bad bruise on his face, a matching headache, and an extra hole in his cranium, he seems like he’s no worse for wear.”

“And how is Slater?”

“Tell her to pretend she’s reading a fortune cookie.” Bree’s voice came through the phone loud and clear.

“Why would she do that?” Oh God, Patty had put her on speakerphone.

“Because,” Bree continued, “when you read a fortune cookie you always follow it with the words ‘in bed.’ Don’t you know anything?”

Rocki groaned. Shit, if she knew she’d ever be in this position, she’d never have given Elyse, Bree, and Skye such a hard time. So okay, she would have given them a hard time, but she’d just stop answering the phone. “Do you two need me here for this?”

“Yes, answer the question.” They answered in stereo.

“Did you two practice that?” God, the two of them ganging up on her was just too much.

“Girl.” Patrice put on her scary voice and Rocki thanked God she was out of smacking distance. “Don’t you mess with me. You leave here without so much as a good-bye to see to your sick brother—the one you never once mentioned you had, and now you’re giving me lip?”

“Fine. I’m sorry. It’s just that Slater’s . . . Well, he’s . . . and we’re . . . you know . . .”

Bree’s laugh cut through Rocki’s embarrassment. “So which is it? Great, inventive, and going at it like bunnies? Or is it wonderful, caring, and madly in love?”

“A little of both?” She was just glad she wasn’t on FaceTime. She swore she heard a high five and then a bunch of giggles.

“I knew it.” Patrice sounded as if she was bouncing in her seat. “I knew you couldn’t keep out of each other’s pants.”

“Patty,” a deep voice cautioned.

Oh God, Francis was there? He’d heard? She groaned into her pillow. It was one thing for the girls to hear, but Francis?

“Hi, Rocki.” And Storm?

“Hi, guys.” Did she just squeak? “Please tell me you just walked in.”

Silence. Dammit. “A little warning would have been nice, ladies. What is everyone doing there? Aren’t you supposed to be at the restaurant?”

“It’s Monday. It’s our day off,” came Storm’s reply.

“Right.”

The background noise disappeared as if the phone was taken off of speaker. “So um . . .” Storm’s voice came on the line. “Is Slater around?”

“He’s probably around somewhere. I was just napping.”

“Can you call him?”

The house was way too big to just scream and expect an answer. “Why don’t you just try his cell?”

“I did. There’s no answer.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know. Look, just have him give me a call when you see him. Okay?”

“It’s not Nicki, is it?”

“No, Nicki’s just fine. It’s business.”

“Okay, hold on. I’ll see if I can find him.” She tossed the phone down, pulled on Slater’s shirt, and took the back stairs down to the kitchen. He wasn’t there but he’d been there—the mess she’d made with the hot buttered rum had been all cleaned up.

“You still there, Storm?”

“Yeah. How big is that house of yours anyway?”

“Big enough.” She headed to the living room. Slater sat in his jeans and no shirt with his head buried in one of the photo albums Grace always left out. He turned the page and she saw a flash of baby pictures. Great.

Slater spotted her and smiled that sexy smile that had her thanking God he was hers. “You’re awake.”

She held out the phone. “It’s Storm. He said you weren’t answering your phone.”

•   •   •

S
later took the phone from Rocki—who didn’t look happy about something. He set the photo album he’d been looking at on the coffee table, pulled her into his lap, and kissed her before he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You apparently from the conversation I overheard. Going at it like bunnies was mentioned, Casanova.” No wonder Rocki looked a little upset. “Look, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but if you mess with Rocki and hurt her, Francis and I will have to take you out.”

He pulled Rocki tighter to him. “Oh yeah? Well, you’d have to get in line. I don’t think Rocki’s brother likes me much—he’s got dibs.”

Rocki buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I can take care of myself you know.”

“Did you hear that, Storm? Rocki said she could take me out all on her own if I step out of line. So did you just call to threaten my life or was there something you needed?”

“Some guy stopped by the restaurant today to see you. He’s a lawyer for OPEC and said he’s your contact if you want to make any changes to the contract.”

“You have his card?”

“Not with me, but it’s in the office.”

“Great. I’ll look at it when I get back. Thanks for calling—”

“Wait. I want to talk to you about Nicki.”

“What about Nicki? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine—physically.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Storm was the eldest of the three of them, or at least they thought he was since Logan’s birthdate was nothing more than a guess. Still, according to the paperwork, Storm was the big brother and Slater was the baby. Unfortunately, Storm never let Slater or Logan forget it. Storm put on his big brother voice—he might have gotten away with it ten years ago when he was twice Slater’s size, but now he could just go to hell.

“Are you going to threaten me again? Because listen bro, once a day is about my limit.”

“No, I’m just wondering if your plans have changed now that you know you have a daughter. Pop tells you that Nicki’s your kid, and the next thing I know you’re running away to New Hampshire.”

“What the fuck? Pop didn’t tell me a damn thing.” Slater lifted Rocki off his lap, went to the study, and closed the door. He stood there looking out the window at the late-afternoon sky—it looked like snow. Cold, gray, bleak. “Storm, slow down. What the hell are you saying?” It sounded as if a million bees had just invaded his head. He could hardly hear over the buzzing. His skin felt tight and tingly, his heart rate tripled, and he grabbed the windowsill to keep from falling. He was missing something; he knew it.

“I’m saying that Nicki needs a father, she needs a family, and right or wrong, you’re the lucky bastard who won the daddy lottery.”

Slater dragged in a shallow breath—deep breathing seemed beyond him at the moment. Daddy lottery? He forced the breath out through his lips. Storm thought that he was Nicki’s father? A picture of Nicki so crisp, so clear came to him. “What the fuck are you talking about?” There was silence on the other end of the phone—or at least he thought there was. It was hard to tell over the ringing in his ears. “Why would you think I’m Nicki’s father?”

“Pop said he was going to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t.”

“Oh fuck. Bree’s gonna kill me. Pop might too.”

“I’ll kill you myself if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Do you remember Marisa Sotto? She worked as a waitress. I was almost eighteen, you were seventeen. She was hot, Latin, and curvy.”

Slater sat in a chair beside the window. A guy never forgot his first time—even if he wanted to. “I remember her.” Slater’s cheeks burned.

“Nicki is Marisa’s daughter. Marisa told Pop Nicki was his granddaughter when she dumped Nicki off.”

The blood drained from Slater’s face and he braced his hand on the arm of the chair so tight, his knuckles were probably white. “Marisa?”

“Yeah, I never slept with her and Logan’s paternity test came back negative.”

“Nicki can’t be mine. I used protection. I only slept with Marisa once,” he mumbled to himself. And it wasn’t all that successful. For most guys the thought lasted longer than the act, and he’d been no different. All he remembered was that when it was over, Marisa hit the door and said something about having to be back on the floor. He’d been nothing more than a fifteen-minute diversion on a twenty-minute break. It had been embarrassingly awesome.

“Yeah, well, condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective you know. Congratulations. You made a hole-in-one and she’s gorgeous.”

She, as in Nicki? As in Marisa’s daughter? As in his first time? Holy shit. He made the connection and he did not like the outcome. What the fuck was he supposed to do with a daughter? What was he supposed to do with a girl? “Storm, are you sure?”

“The only way to be completely sure is to take a paternity test, but shit, Slater, we’re ninety-nine point nine percent sure.”

Slater rose, and then sat back down. There had to be a mistake. It was a big, big mistake. “Marisa could be lying. This could just be wishful thinking on Pop’s part.”

“Nicki looks just like you.”

“The same can be said for Logan, but you said yourself she’s not his.”

“She walks like you. Hell, Slater, she even has your attitude. Everyone knew it the second we saw you two together. Everyone but you.”

“You’ve suspected all this time and no one has bothered to tell me?”

“Pop said he was going to the day you took off. I thought—”

“You thought I ran away.”

Storm didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Slater knew that was exactly what he’d thought.

“Just because you and everyone else thinks there’s a resemblance still doesn’t mean Nicki’s my kid.” But what if she was? What if Nicki was his daughter? What the hell was he going to do? All his plans, all the work he’d done . . . He couldn’t go to Bahrain. He would lose a multimillion dollar contract. All his dreams would be flushed right down the toilet. It wasn’t Nicki’s fault. Shit, she was just the unexpected product of raging teenage hormones, an overactive libido, and a few brain cells shy of common sense.

“The only way to be sure is to take a paternity test.”

Did that involve needles? “Fuck.”

“So what are you going to do, little brother?”

Slater tried to brush the little brother thing off, but it was difficult. He was a grown man. A grown man who could possibly have a ten-year-old daughter who scared the crap out of him. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“She’s an amazing kid. Any man would be lucky to have her as a daughter.”

“I said I’ll do what needs to be done. So, do us both a favor and drop it.”

“Nicki’s not a fuckin’ obligation, Slater. She’s a little girl.”

“And she’s not yours.” If they had been in the same room, he’d bet that Storm would be in his face. But Slater wouldn’t take a step back. Not this time. The muscles across his shoulders bunched. “If Nicki’s mine, I’ll take care of her. Now, back the hell off.”

“When you get home you and I are going to talk. I don’t know what the hell is going on in that computerlike brain of yours, but I suggest you pull it out of your ass before you get back. I love Nicki, and I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone else mistreat her.”

“Fuck you, Storm. Don’t go there. Don’t you dare.” Anger unlike any he’d ever experienced turned his blood to ice and he saw a flash of memory—a man’s face twisted in fury. Mad. Crazy. Frightening. A monster. He didn’t recognize the face, but he knew the eyes. The eyes were his.

His heart pounded in his ears so loud, he wasn’t sure if Storm said anything. “This conversation is over.” He ended the call and if it had been his phone, he’d have thrown it through the plate-glass window. Instead, he pressed his fingers to his temples, willing the vision to recede, and blew out a breath, trying to slow the racing of his heart. He had to get out of there.

He opened the door and headed toward the stairs.

As soon as Rocki saw him she wrapped her arms around him.

Slater couldn’t stand to be touched. Not now. “Don’t.” He shucked Rocki’s hands away and turned for the stairs. He needed to get dressed. He needed to escape. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on with him. “I’m going for a run.”

“Slater, wait.”

“Leave it alone, Rocki. If I’m not back before you have to leave, take the Jeep.” He didn’t bother looking at her. He couldn’t. He just needed to get out, and fast.

•   •   •

Rocki stared after Slater and the slam of the back door made her jump. She called Patrice.

“Rocki?”

“Put Storm on.”

“Look, maybe—”

“Patrice, put Storm on the phone now.” She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair.

“You people need to calm down. Take a breath.”

She was breathing. If she breathed any more, she’d hyperventilate.

“Rocki, it’s Storm. Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. Slater’s the one I’m worried about. What the hell did you say to him?”

“Look, Rocki, no offense, but this is between Slater and me.”

“Bullshit. I care about him and I’ve never seen him so upset. What the hell did you say?”

“It doesn’t matter. The fact is, he freaked out.”

“Everyone does once in a while. I heard you freaked just driving through the Red Hook Houses.”

“Low blow, Rocki.”

“Yeah? It’s nothing you don’t deserve. What do you think you just did to Slater? He’s the best man I know.”

“Oh man, Rocki. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him.”

“What? You think Slater doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I said. But Rocki, as much as we all love Slater, he’s not like the rest of us. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken expecting that love to be reciprocated.”

“You really know nothing about your brother, do you?”