Poughkeepsie Begins (The Poughkeepsie Brotherhood #0.5) (24 page)

“My present was fantastic.” She tilted her face to him and puckered her lips. He leaned down and kissed them, and his lingering hope for his future slammed around in his chest. It got him when she looked at him. It made his heart trip a step, like the floor had dropped out beneath it.

She touched his lips with her fingertips, then ran them up his cheek, smoothing out his brow where he hadn’t realized it was furrowed.

“I love you, Beckett.”

He exhaled, knowing she was gone for him. She was every minute of her eighteen years. She would be young for him, give him her body, her heart, pine for him. And he couldn’t let her. He hugged her closer, kissing her head.

“You’re too beautiful for me. You need a glass case with a light above it, and you need to stay there.”

He expected fighting. If she felt even half of what he felt for her, she would fight him now. Convince him now. Instead she was quiet again. She always seemed to do to opposite of what he predicted.

“Okay.” She put her leg between his. “But I think you could fit under a glass case too.”

He pulled her to lay on top of him. He wanted her weight on him, to feel her good intentions over him like the blanket he’d wrapped her in. She was so soft. Their heartbeats seemed to sync up. Her wet hair was against his neck.

He would never let her be his Doreen. But he was too far gone not to be everyone else’s supercharged Kick—and more.

They lay like this until they fell asleep.

Sometime later a door slammed in the hotel and woke them both. He instinctively pulled her off of him and put his body between hers and the door. But it was a false alarm. Just another guest being thoughtless of the time.

The time!

In the haze of it all, time had seemed to stop. But it hadn’t. Candy sat up to find the clock, and soon they were both horrified to see it was four in the morning.

She looked to be a terrible combination of panicked, embarrassed, and scared as he helped her back into her dress. It was so, so wrong to have kept her out this late.

The ride back to her house was for sure something out of her nightmares, good girl that she was. She barely said a word, just gripped his hand tightly.

Her father waited in the driveway. Beckett didn’t get to say good-bye. He didn’t get to tell her that what they’d done tonight had to be the litmus test for her future lovers. They had to be as good as him or better.

Her father was seconds from calling the cops; only Candy’s tearful pleas had stopped him, so there was no time to say anything.

As he drove away, the ripping in his chest told him once again what maybe Candy still didn’t really know. They could never be together again.

Biggest Asshole

S
TAYING
A
WAY
F
ROM
C
ANDY
was fucking terrible. After four months of doing pretty well, he’d ripped the fucking Band-Aid off on prom night. Now he’d lost count of how many times he drove down her street over the last six weeks, half out of his mind, high as a fucking kite, drunk off his ass, or all of the above.

It was a goddamn miracle that her gorgeous tits and beautiful pussy remained locked in the tower guarded by her dragon of a father. He could have had her on his arm, sitting next to him. But even toasted as fuck, he couldn’t do it to her.

It would be so fucking selfish to beat the living piss out of grown men all day and all night and expect her to play happy housewife for him in the abandoned mall where he currently resided. The thought of her cleaning blood off his jacket, out of his clothes made him physically ill.

Mouse was driving tonight, and he knew the drill. The drive-by was customary.

“Slow up.”

It was her. She stood near the window, silhouetted by a light on behind her.
Did she know it was him?
She put one hand on the glass, and he realized he was killing her. This stalking was giving the girl hope.

Instead she needed college. She needed so much more than what he was currently offering.

“Go. Let’s go,” he barked. “And no matter how fucking fucked up I am, never let me come back here. Promise me that.”

Mouse was quiet but pulled away from the curb.

“Promise,” Beckett commanded.

His faithful friend refused.

“If I come back here, shoot me. Holy shit, if I ruin this girl’s life I will be the biggest asshole that’s ever lived. Goddamn it. Please.” Beckett pounded his fist into the dashboard.

Mouse was lit up by the red light where they’d stopped. Without taking his eyes from the road, he nodded once.

It was done. He was done. He had to really, really let her go. It was time to be the man he was designing, get his brothers safe, let her have her life.

He slouched down low in the passenger seat, closing his eyes. He was too hard to cry now. Too mean. But giving up on her felt like slamming a door he was afraid was the only thing keeping him worthy of love.

Graduating

B
LAKE
T
RIED
T
O
T
IE
H
IS
T
IE
A
GAIN
, but without a mirror—well, who was he kidding? Even with one he was more likely to tie a noose than make anything normal around his neck. He’d been living in the woods a couple weeks now. As soon as classes were out for seniors, Blake packed up his box at Rick’s. Cole was already gone, mostly so Blake would have the courage to follow, he suspected. The last thing his foster father yelled to him was that he would cash the checks every damn time they were sent. Blake didn’t care. He had his shelters set up and was able to keep his stuff dry. Beckett had a shower at his new place in the old strip mall, so he was finally free.

When he was able to spend whole days in the shade of his shelter, it took a weight off. He knew it wasn’t normal to be happier without a formal home, but he could trust trees and foliage far more than people.

He hadn’t even been planning to go to the graduation ceremony, but the overcast sky was thick with protective clouds, so he knew Beckett would freak out if he wasn’t there.

Why it mattered so much to Beckett he didn’t know, but he’d made sure Blake had the dress clothes he now struggled with. He finally just draped the silk around his shoulders and made his way to Beckett’s, where Cole was also living, though he wasn’t loving it.

Mouse met him at the door and waved him over before he could be admitted to Beckett’s office. This was hilarious to begin with, and he and Cole had both teased Beckett a ton over it. Mouse threaded the tie for him and slipped the knot into something that made sense.

“Thanks. It was not my…” He trailed off. He had no reason to know how to tie a tie, no father to be an example, nothing.

Mouse nodded. “I grew up with my MeeMaw, and she insisted I know how to tie my own tie. She was a stickler for weird things. It’s all good. Happy graduation.”

“And to you. Poughkeepsie West have a good one?”

“It was quiet. MeeMaw passed away recently. Beckett came to it, though.”

“I’m so sorry.” Blake gripped Mouse’s hand. “Glad Beckett could be there for you.”

Mouse nodded before he turned to knock on and open Beckett’s door.

“Hey, boss, you got company.”

Blake walked in and saw that Cole was dressed and ready, if looking a bit tense.

“You handsome motherfucker,” Beckett bellowed. “Get in here and give your brother a fucking kiss.”

Beckett’s eyes were rimmed in red. He was using. Blake allowed the hug, but struggled against his brother’s persistent attempt to kiss him on the lips. He pretended to punch Beckett in the stomach.

“All right, fine.” Beckett backed up and gave them both a low wolf whistle. “Nice work, you hot babies. Are you ready to roll? Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Beckett led his brothers to a huge Hummer in the parking lot. Mouse took the driver’s seat, and Cole claimed the passenger seat by yelling
shotgun!

On the way over, Beckett cleared his throat. “Listen,” he began, “I want to do something, but only if you guys want to do it too. And if you don’t, that’s fine. No pressure.”

Blake cracked a window and asked Beckett to spit it out already.

Beckett pulled up his sleeve and slapped his forearm. “How about we all get the same tattoo right fucking here?”

Cole nodded, a broad smile giving him a rare look of delight. Blake thought for a moment, but knew the proposal felt right as he rolled up his sleeve as well. “It’d be good to have ink here along with the glass,” he said quietly.

Beckett grabbed his bicep and squeezed. “That’s right. Cole and I will be in there fighting too.”

Cole turned in his seat. “I like that placement.”

He didn’t say it, but Blake knew what he meant, and he was sure Beckett did too. A hand on the forearm had been their secret signal for “I’ve had enough” during Rick’s beatings. To have a shared mark there would make their bond last a lifetime.

He nodded. “Yeah. When I’ve had enough, you guys are already there.”

Beckett’s grin threatened to split his face. “Perfect. I can’t wait. But first, you graduate! I’ll think on the design since I won’t be occupied with that.”

And so it was settled. They would get ink together—something that represented all of them. Beckett reached up to clap Cole on the back, and Blake found himself looking at Mouse. The big bodyguard took his eyes from the road for a moment to study his own forearm, rubbing the blank space there.

After Mouse dropped them off, Beckett went to the middle of the audience and had a seat. Cole had given him a ticket from the invitation he’d received on the last day of school. The seats were filling up. Beckett watched the sky warily. He needed to the clouds to stay put for Blake.

He wanted to provide for them both, but Blake had taken to the woods immediately. The only thing Beckett couldn’t try to buy for Blake was a break from the fucking sun. He was happy to help Cole with a place to crash, but it made him uneasy that his brother was around all of the shit he had to do. He worried some of it might be a trigger for him. Not that he had anyone in fucking cages, but the strip mall was rapidly becoming the scariest place in town, and he was the fucking president.

But this—making sure they walked across the stage and got their diplomas—he could force them to do this as best as he could.

He opened the program and saw that this whole dog and pony show would likely take over an hour. He rubbed his temples and tapped his foot. He should’ve stopped raging earlier last night. He’d claimed a new territory from some freaking guy named Scorpion, even had his guys coming for work later.

He was moving faster than even he had predicted. But the celebrating should have taken a backseat to not being a fucking junkie-ass dipshit here as he watched Cole and Blake graduate. He rubbed his fingertips hard on his scalp. Time took forever. He scoped out the crowd.

He could tell himself he was looking for danger, but he really knew he was looking for her.

He didn’t want to see her kissing some other lucky fucker, but he would like to fluster her a bit, maybe kiss her cheek to congratulate her. He really should just leave her alone. Cease to exist for her. He closed his eyes and pictured her naked body in front of him. He’d been with a lot of women since her prom, but when he wanted to create a little head porn, he always used her.

Good form would have been to watch from the sidelines, under a hat—see his brothers do their thing and slink out. Instead he sat dead center with his legs wide open like his testicles were two cannonballs. A graduate came down his aisle in a hurry, missing her mortarboard. Her mother stood and met her halfway, holding the red hat in her hands.

“Here you go, Helena.” She gave her daughter a quick hug as Beckett moved his boots out of the way.

The name sparked recognition in him; she was a friend of Candy’s from prom night. He touched her hand and caught her attention as her mother made her way back to her seat.

“Hey. Where’s Candy?”

It was stupid question; Candy would be lined up with the other graduates.

Helena looked him up and down, and her jaw tightened. He recognized the girl-wall-of-protection when he saw it.

“She’s not here. Her great aunt died, and she had to go to the funeral.” Helena pulled her hand away. “Which you would know if you weren’t such a pussy.”

Helena rushed off, but not before giving him a dirty look.

He tried to not feel the wave of pain that crashed over his head. He hadn’t realized how much he was hoping to see her until right now. He hung his head. He wished he had one quick hit to numb everything. Make it go away.

The music started, and the crowd stood. He saw Cole first and then Blake walking down the center aisle. Helena walked by too, ignoring him and waving to her parents.

The ceremony was so long his ass felt flatter and his left nut had fallen asleep when it was finally over. The graduates threw their hats, and Beckett gave his brothers the loudest, most obnoxious shouts he could muster.

As all the families began visiting with each other afterward, Cole and Blake found Beckett.

“My beautiful daughters,” he said, smiling sweetly. “You are both fantastic.”

They itched their faces with their middle fingers.

Mr. Gold interrupted, stepping close. “Gentlemen. Did you bring a camera to document the day?”

Beckett looked at his empty hands, cursing himself for not thinking to bring one. He’d have had to get one first, but still…

Mr. Gold pulled one out of his pocket and motioned for the brothers to get together. He snapped a few shots before telling them to come by his office to pick up the prints the following week. Cole promised he would.

Mr. Gold shook all their hands, but also clapped Beckett on the shoulder. “Stick with your brothers. It’s just as important as you think it is.”

Beckett nodded as the AP disappeared into the crowd. He looked around at all the beaming parents and shook his head. “Let’s blow this joint. I have a present for you educated assholes.”

Two hours later, the brothers celebrated in a more private location. Mouse had collected them and taken them to a seedy Italian place where Beckett bought them lunch. After they’d finished eating, they began the true celebrating with a round of shots and a discussion of what exactly their tattoo should be.

Blake’s was the easiest. Both Beckett and Cole said in unison: “Music.”

The smile that spread across Blake’s face was a slow one. He outlined a shape on his arm. “I’ve always liked the way the treble clef looked.”

Beckett wanted a gun to represent him at first. It took some negotiations to get him to settle on a knife. Blake was grateful that Cole was also reluctant to put a gun on his skin. For Blake, a gun would symbolize the worst part of what Beckett felt he had to do every day. But a knife could be useful, a symbol of strength. In the woods it could help build things, like a fire. There was hope of other purposes in a knife. A gun had just one job.

Then they were all quiet for a while, thinking about Cole. He was such an internal guy. He wasn’t easy to peg with a symbol.

Eventually the quietest brother spoke. “I think I’d like to get a cross, if that’s okay?”

Beckett chuckled. “Sweetheart, you can pick whatever you want. I’ll get Mr. Potato Head if that honks your banana.”

Blake nodded, but he was curious. “Can I ask why?”

Cole engaged in a long staring contest with his next shot. “When my mother, that woman, got me back, I gave up. I gave up on resisting what they would do to me there. I turned off. But just before I was going to be with the person who bought me, after my own—” he stumbled a bit over these words, then continued “—mother had sold me, I prayed.”

He looked up at them, eyes shining. “And then you two came through the door. In that moment? I knew you were sent to me, that I’d been given nothing from the people in my life, but I think from God, or whoever is in charge, I got you.”

All the brothers shifted and coughed, looking away from each other as they nodded vigorously. The emotion was too much for the small table they crowded around.

Blake was able to respond first. “A cross it is then, brother.” And then they committed to the last brothers’ handshake they’d ever have without the mark bonding them together.

A quick phone call to Mouse had their ride out front, and a set of three shots to go provided a bit of courage. After a short drive, Mouse left them in the front yard of a slightly worn suburban home.

Beckett led them around back to a shed in the yard, and Blake surveyed the scene, feeling a bit claustrophobic. The shed behind Chaos’s parents’ house was a fucking scary place to get a tattoo, no matter what he’d promised Beckett. He wanted to pour antiseptic all over himself and his brothers. Beckett, of course, had offered to go first. Music blared, and they had a bottle of some top-shelf stuff he said he’d “come across.” Blake was about one-hundred-percent sure the makers of this particular whiskey had never intended it to be set on a broken-down riding lawn mower between guzzles.

He was grateful Chaos wasn’t imbibing. The whole thing was already terrifying, in a medieval sort of way.