Scandal: The Reckless Series, Book #3 (The Reckless Crew) (3 page)

T
he pain strikes
me in a terrorizing flash. My eyes flash open once and then one more time before adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the windows. I twist until I’m flat on my back and staring at the popcorn spackling on the ceiling.

Rotating my head, I see the empty bed and cot, then the night before flashes from the airport to the surgery and the bathroom scene. I groan out loud and slap my forehead.

But before I have too long to ridicule myself, Boozer is up on the bed staring down at me. He has the slight trace of drool and curiosity lingers in his eyes.

“Good morning to you, too, Mister.” I reach out and stroke the underside of his neck.

He plops down next to me, approving of the pets and nuzzles. I stare at his face, wishing I had his life. The life of a dog with caring owners, a full food bowl, and the only worry of finding your next bone. But then the flashes of all the beaten and mistreated animals boils up in my thoughts and I laugh sardonically because that’s the dog I’d be.

My bladder screams emergency level status at me.

“Here we go,” I mumble to myself.

Lesson learned, so I take my time sitting up and adjusting before I swing my legs over the side of the bed. It only takes a few moments for the room to stop spinning, so I give my legs a go and sigh when they actually hold me up. The room doesn’t spin, however, the bathroom that’s only ten feet away looks a hundred miles away.

“Morning.”

I look over to Kip leaning up against the door leading into the room. He’s dressed in loose, black gym shorts that are riding low on his hips, his chest is bare with no shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination, and his body is glistening in sweat.

“Morning.”

I feel sick all of the sudden and it’s not like last night. It’s more from last night. I can’t believe I let this man pull down and up my panties and pants. He not only did that, but also helped me sit down on the toilet and wiped the remnants of puke away from my face.

I study the gorgeous tattoos covering his body. It’s art, plain and simple. A large piece covers his chest with wings framing it. It’s so colorful and vibrant it’s hard for my eye to stay in one place too long.

He’s moving towards me and I look up to his face.

“I can do this.” I wave him off and wince like a real champ.

“I’ll just help you one more time.” He holds up both hands with his fingers crossed.

“Okay, poop patrol.” I laugh and then turn red throwing out a poop joke.

Jesus, I need more drugs.

Kip fulfills his promise and is a gentleman just like last night, making sure I’m okay before exiting the bathroom. But this time I stand on my own and wiggle my panties and sweats up before I open the door. I don’t miss the glare he sends my way.

“I have lunch ready for you.” He holds a hand out to me.

“Lunch?” I ask.

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“Oh.” I grab on to his hand, letting him guide me out to the kitchen.

He settles me down on a barstool before rounding the island in the kitchen. I take in the place in shock and awe. It’s a gorgeous house with intricate trimming and polished off with dark marble on the floor and countertops.

“Nice digs.” I smooth my hand over the marble countertop.

“It’s Dad’s.”

“You live here, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He runs his hands over his chest. “Don’t really brag about that fact though.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I’m a twenty-eight-year-old living with his daddy.”

“I’m a twenty-five-year-old and wished I had a daddy I liked to live with.”

“You don’t get along with your parents?” he asks as he pulls a plate of lasagna from the oven.

I shrug and not too excited to discuss the topic, but I guess I opened the damn box. “My parents
love
Zack.”

I exaggerate the word love.

“Dumb fucks.”

I laugh gently. “Yeah, dumb fucks is a mild term for them. My mom tries, but she’s too caught up in being the best wife for her congressman.”

He places the plate in front of me. “Well, she’s a fool.”

He clutches the top of my hand before turning to get utensils and a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

“You going to join me?” I ask.

“Um, that’s the only part left.”

“Gotcha.” I nod and take my first bite. “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks, it’s about the only thing I know how to cook.”

“I approve.”

“Take it slow. My dad may kick my ass if you puke again.” He puts the empty pan in the sink. “I mean, you can eat all you want.”

I laugh. “I understand.”

I take my time, actually enjoying each morsel and pop some more pills while eating. My plate is clean in no time and I’m perched back, patting my belly with my free arm.

“Darby and Ava are coming over tonight.” Kip relaxes back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t think it’s the best idea, but those girls won’t take a no.”

“Yeah, no need explaining that one.”

I run my hands through my hair and get stuck midway, caught in a mess of tangles. The smell wafting from it is putrid.

“Want to shower?”

“Yes, please or I may have swarms of flies buzzing around my head soon.”

Kip takes me back to the bedroom. I’m thankful it’s on the first floor and I don’t have to make my way up the gorgeous spiraling staircase.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

I sit on the edge of the bed waiting for him. The pain is dull, my stomach is full, and my stink is about to be clean. Kip’s back in no time with some clothes over his forearm and a trash bag clutched in his other hand.

“You’ll have to wear this until the girls come.” He holds up a pair of black boxers and a black t-shirt with Metallica scrawled across the front.

“Thank you.” I fumble with my fingers, wondering how in the hell I’m going to shower when I can barely piss.

Kip doesn’t answer the question plastered on my face with words, but just makes his way to the bathroom and cranks on the shower. He’s in front of me with his hand extended out, waiting on me to take it. I place my hand in his, accepting his help with ease.

It should be embarrassing or at least demeaning, but it’s the guy who packed me through the airport, helped me go to the bathroom, and cleaned my face. We stand facing each other in the bathroom. Boozer nuzzles his way between us, breaking up the tension. I need to buy him a case of treats as soon as I’m able to.

I grab the hem of my shirt and wiggle my good arm from it. I don’t have to ask or make a plan of attack before Kip removes it the rest of the way. The cool air breezes over my nipples, sending them to high attention. Of course, I’d be braless.

Kip doesn’t seem to notice me exposed or at least he doesn’t acknowledge it and I’m thankful for that. He removes the sling and glides the trash bag over the cast. The feel of the pads of his fingers on my skin sends chills all over my body. He silently moves to pull down my pants and panties. I step out of them and turn to the shower.

I have no fucking clue how I’m going to wash every part that needs it so desperately. He opens the door and I step in. He’s right behind me in the shower.

“Your shorts.” I turn to him.

“Would you like me to take them off?” He grins.

“Kip.”

“I’m kidding. Just let me wash your hair for you and then I’ll be out.”

I drop my head to his chest feeling defeated like never before. I’ve never felt so helpless, even when being beaten by Zack. He’d pin me to the floor and repeat blow after blow and even in those times I felt more powerful than I do now.

“You don’t have to watch.”

I hear the sound of a bottle snapping and then his hands are massaging my long-dyed hair. He runs the suds all over before splashing water on to my head. If I picked up my head it would make it so much easier on him, but my soul can’t bear it. He walks us back a step until my hair is under the stream of water.

“Close your eyes. This shit isn’t tear free.” There’s humor in his voice.

“I couldn’t open them if I wanted to.”

He rinses all the shampoo from my hair before stepping us out of the stream. Gobs and gobs of conditioner is run through my hair. His fingers glide between the strands.

“Now, do you women let this shit sit for a bit?” he asks.

I nod into his hard chest.

Another sound of a bottle popping open fills the shower and then I’m assaulted with a coconut scent. Kip runs his palms up my back. The creamy soap is soothing my skin. His hands roam up to the top of my shoulder blades, down under my arms, along the length of my arms, and to the front of my abdomen. He avoids all my private parts, but has every other inch of my skin soaped up.

He eases me back in the stream of the shower and massages my head until all the silky conditioner is running down the drain.

“I’m stepping out. Chloe, take as long as you need.”

“No.” I clutch to his forearm. “Stay here.”

I turn to the stream and let the water run over my face. The tears fall, disappearing down the drain with the rest of my shame and filth. I turn off the shower and push open the door. Kip steps out before me, handing me a towel. I do my best drying off the parts I can.

He runs another one down my long hair, wringing it dry. Kip then smooths it over the rest of my body before holding out the boxers for me to step in. When I pull my leg up, I spot all the scars and bruises covering my upper thighs. They disappear under his boxers as fast as they came into sight.

He lets them rest on my hips, but they fall to the ground. We both share a giggle and then he reaches down to pull them up again. This time he folds them over at the hem a couple times and they stay up. He pulls the shirt over me and I’m assaulted with his manly scent. It’s warm and comforting.

I go over to the sink and pick up the toothbrush and paste and brush my teeth. I’m left with a refreshing feeling. I drag the brush through my hair until it’s all combed out. Not styled, but clean and combed.

“Want a braid?”

I look over to Kip, who’s standing in a fresh pair of gym shorts with his hands on his hips. I don’t answer before he’s behind me braiding my hair and tying it off with a hair tie.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He guides me back out to the living room area and settles me on a couch. The shower zapped all my energy as embarrassing as it is. My eyes lose the good fight when Kip pulls up a fleece blanket over me.

“You’re the best.”

I’m not sure if I spoke the words or if they floated around in my dream state.

B
etween hitting
the gym outside in my studio, barely sleeping, and the stress from having Chloe around, my eyes grow heavy as she snores on the couch. I remain sprawled at her head and relax.

The shower this morning gutted me. I didn’t want to invade her personal space, but I also knew she needed a shower more than words can express and she had no ability to get it done on her own. When she dropped her head to my chest and began sobbing, I nearly lost my shit.

She’s pulling demons from me that I thought were lost and locked away forever. Each tear that rolls down her cheeks, I see my own mother. Every ugly healing bruise and scar shreds me like no other. I’ve remained a private person for good reason, but for some strange fucking reason Chloe is tearing down all the barriers and doesn’t even know it.

I barely know the girl, but I’d protect and even kill for her. Last night, after she had finally fallen asleep with her arm laid over Boozer and fingers pressed to my abs, I thought of Clooney. The man hadn’t even been a nightmare for the last six months, but his bright blue eyes and messy hair stared back at me. He was my best friend and work partner for years.

We’d met in the police academy and luckily ended up patrolling together. We worked our way up to detectives and took our jobs seriously. Bringing justice to everyone I could was the best therapy for me. It calmed my nightmares and eased the pain of watching my mother die until the night Clooney was shot right in front of me. Guilt washed over me for years, watching my mother fight for life and when the bullet aimed for me only grazed my calf, it was the final nail in the coffin.

I handed in my badge and headed home to live with Dad, giving the angry troll who lived under the bridge a whole new meaning. I laid around for months drowning out all the pain with whiskey. Nothing ever helped or soothed away the terror. Dad finally pushed me to go out and get a job. He didn’t quite approve of me being a bartender, but it was the only environment I felt safe in.

My back was always to a wall while facing patrons and slinging drinks. I close my eyes and try to push away the jackass smile Clooney always sported, but as hard as I try it becomes more vibrant. He’s the only person I’ve opened up to about my mother. I didn’t spare him one gory detail like I’ve done with my dad over the years.

He’d line up the shots and just let me pour my heart out to him. Clooney was my best fucking friend. The one person I’d let myself trust and care for over the years and I couldn’t even fucking protect him in that moment.

I sit up carefully, realizing sleep is just a mere fantasy for me at this point and scrub my face. I glance over to Chloe, asleep on the couch next to me. She’s snuggled down in the blankets with her long dark hair wrapped around her face. Most of my braid has fallen out by now. I can tell it’s not her natural hair color when I look closer to the roots. It’s more of an auburn brown color and it’s fucking beautiful.

She’s
fucking beautiful, even through all the bruises and scars. Holding her in the shower wrecked me today. I’m caring for her, taking care of her, and know it’s all one big fucking mistake. But there’s a pull and there’s no way I’m going to turn my fucking back on her even though I know what the outcome will be.

Everyone I love and care for dies. They end up being beaten or shot and I stand by like a fucking scared little boy. I can’t do this.

I stand up and walk into the kitchen, reaching for the bottle of Southern Comfort. The golden liquid glides over the ice cubes in my glass and I begin to fight to dull the inevitable pain beginning to rush into my life.