Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (33 page)

“Sugar, why don't you tell her? Tell your aunt what you're doing,” Sam said. She could hear the anger and desperation under his voice, even as he tried to keep his cool. She knew he was going to break eventually and she wanted to see it. She wanted to see his true colors so it wouldn't be so hard to do what she knew she had to.

“I didn't even ask for that money!” Shay screamed, not caring that it was late and the whole damn neighborhood could probably hear her. “It's such a fucking burden that you gave me!”

“Then there's no problem,” Sam said with a light shrug.

“The money, Sam?” Gina said, finally catching up to what was going on. “Is that what this is about?”

“The money's not here,” Shay said, lying through her teeth. “My friend has it. You know, the one you met the other day?”

“That piece of shit cop? The
white
piece of shit cop?!” Sam growled, the ugliness of his anger finally showing. “You give that pig my money?”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, refusing to be intimidated. “He said he would take care of it for me because I didn't want your dirty money around here.”

“Now who's full of shit, baby girl?” he asked, his face relaxing and his cool tone coming back. “You've always been a bad liar, Sugar. That's why they put you away. Because you can't lie for shit.”

“No, they put me away because of you!” She balled her hands up into fists, for once understanding what Tate had said in the locker room. Sometimes it felt good for him to get hit; well right about then, it would feel damn good for her to hit someone. But she was better than that. She was better than her father and she wasn't going to stoop to his level, no matter how much she hated that smug look on his face, like he knew everything even though he really knew absolutely nothing. “Get out,” she said. “I want you to go and never come back.”

“Sugar!” Gina said, surprising Shay. Shay looked at her aunt sharply, wanting them all to know she was serious.

“I mean it. I hate him,” she said, even though it hurt her to see how much pain her aunt was in. Her aunt loved Sam, deep down. They all did. She didn't want to let him go, either. But Shay didn't care. She would be strong for the both of them.

“You don't hate me,” Sam said. “You could never hate your father.” Shay didn't respond, just kept still. She tried to school her face, thinking of Tate and how he kept his emotions buried deep. She wasn't going to let her father keep using her feelings for him against her. That had gone on long enough. So she didn't budge her eyes from her aunt. She refused to look at her father. She couldn't stand the sight of his face. She didn't know what she would do if she looked at him. She might apologize. She might buckle and give him the money. But she was stronger than that. In the past, he'd made her weak, but she wasn't going to hop on the carousel with him anymore.

She was done.

“Sam, go,” Gina said, her face hardening as if she could feel Shay's resolve.

“Come on, sister,” Sam said. “It was a good holiday, wasn't it?”

“He doesn't give a shit about us,” Shay blurted out, because she knew her father would never admit the truth. “He only came here for the money.”

“No, that's not true,” Sam said, his voice slightly pleading, like he could see the blood in the water. Shay's eyesight blurred and she blinked quickly, trying to clear her eyes. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry anymore over Sam, that was for damn sure.

“Why did you have to to ruin it?” Gina asked softly.

“Sister, it's not like that,” he said, his voice dropping to match hers. “It was always me and you against the world, wasn't it?”

“I want him to leave now,” Shay said, not caring whether he was regretting his actions or if he was just manipulating Gina for the millionth time. It didn't matter. “He leaves or I do.”

“You gonna call your white cop to haul me out of here?” Sam asked. “You gonna snitch on your own father?” Shay couldn't stop herself from looking at him then, because she had never snitched in her life, and he knew it. She'd ruined her life because she wasn't a snitch. But he didn't give a shit. She searched his face for any hint that he regretted anything that had happened, any of the shit that he'd caused and cultivated, but found none.

“Get out,” Shay said. “I mean it.”

“Go,” Gina echoed.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I can see you all are out your minds tonight.” He stepped between them, leaving the heavy scent of his cologne in his wake. Shay closed her eyes as she breathed it in, wondering if it was the last time she would ever smell it. It was sad and it was awful, but it was necessary. She wasn't going to back down. He'd hurt her for the last time. “I'll call you tomorrow, sister,” he said, grabbing his hat from the hook by the front door and plopping it on his head. “Maybe you'll be calmer then.” He took his time putting on his coat, buttoning each button like he had all the time in the world. “Miss Thalia, it was nice to meet you,” he said and Thalia smiled awkwardly and nodded from her silent position on the couch. Shay suddenly felt slightly sorry for Thalia, having been dragged into their family shit. But she would've found out sooner or later.

Sam opened the door and glanced between Gina and Shay. Shay took his withering glare without looking away. She'd spent her whole life trying not to disappoint him and he knew just how to make her feel like a pile of dirt on the floor. But she wasn't going to let him. She knew she was right this time, and he was full of it. She knew it without hesitation. His power over her was broken. So she held his gaze until he stepped out the door and, without a word, shut it lightly behind him.

Chapter Nineteen

T
ate sat back in his seat and let the car idle.

He told himself he wasn't going to sit around outside of the salon until she got off work, but he still did it. He hadn't heard from her in days. Christmas had come and gone. He had no idea what was going on with her and it was driving him up the wall. He couldn't stand the thought that she was letting Sam Spears back into her life without a fight. The guy was fucking trash and she was treating him like he was a king. The thought pissed Tate off to no end. Sam was Shay's father, but beyond that, Tate didn't give a shit about him. Tate wished he would go back to wherever the hell he came from and leave Shay in peace.

Tate sighed and scrubbed his hands over is face, trying to ignore the pain in his chest when he thought about Shay. She'd chosen her father over him and it was something he just had to deal with. But that didn't mean he was okay with it. Hell no, he wasn't. He missed her, but that wasn't the only problem. He had a bad feeling that he couldn't shake. She was twenty-five, a grown woman, but he knew for a fact her father held some strange hold on her. He knew what it was like. Ghostly memories of his biological mother still hung around in the corners of his brain. No matter what he did, no matter how much work he did or exercise, no matter if he was happy or unhappy,  he couldn't shake her. She was always with him. He assumed Sam Spears played the same role for Shay.

But it would be a lie if Tate pretended he didn't wish Shay would be stronger than the old memories. He wanted her to love herself more than anyone else. He wanted her to go to culinary school and smile and laugh and be happy for the rest of her life. Sam Spears would only ruin that for her, of that Tate was certain. People like him were a virus, a cancer, killing every bit of good intentions with their very presence. Tate didn't even know the man, but he knew that much was true.

He couldn't stand the thought of the cancer spreading into Shay's life.

As he sat alone in the dark, he thought about a million things. He replayed the stupid argument they'd had over and over. Then he started thinking about the day she'd cooked him soup and all the ways she'd fucked him and the silly texts she sent him and the sexy pictures and it all suddenly seemed like he was going to go crazy without her. He hadn't realized his apartment was so quiet until she'd stopped coming over. Some nights, it was so maddeningly quiet, he was actually considering getting a TV. He didn't want to go back there. He'd been to the gym every night that week. His muscles were sore, but that wasn't the only reason his body was aching.

The lights in the salon went off and he pulled his keys from the ignition even as he told himself he wasn't going to get out of the car. He watched a dark figure leave the front door and he knew it was her immediately. He knew the way she moved. When she reached up to try to reach the metal security gate for the front of the shop, he got out of the car without thinking. He glanced down the street for cars and then crossed, heading straight for her. He reached above her and grabbed the rim of the gate. She gasped and looked up at him as he pulled it down without a word, the loud rattle of the metal gate echoing in the cold night air. She silently crouched down and latched the padlock and then stood, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder.

“You scared me,” she said, her voice sounding oddly breathless. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest as the urge to pull her close and bury his face in her hair reared up in him. “What are you doing here?”

“You know what I'm doing here,” he said.

“No, I don't,” she said.

“Let me drive you home,” he said.

“I can walk.” She pulled up her furry hood to cover her head and he realized she had a new coat. He wondered if it was a Christmas present.

“I like this,” he said, raising his hand to run his palm lightly over the fur trim.

“It's warm,” she said, shifting her hips and moving away from his touch. “Gina gave it to me.”

“I figured.” He clicked his tongue, annoyed at the stupid shit they were talking about. Out of all the things to say, they were acting like they barely knew each other. They were acting like two people who had never been naked together or never stayed up all night long together or never had a conversation beyond idle chit-chat together.

“What do you want, Tate?” she asked, and he took a minute to think about how he wanted to answer that. There was so much he wanted from her, but he couldn't put all of that into words. He didn't even know where to begin.

“Let me drive you home,” he repeated.

“No.”

“Please,” he said, hoping that the magic word would still work on her. If it still worked, he would still have a chance. If it worked, then everything was maybe going to be okay between them.

“I had a shitty day,” she said, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I'm going to walk home so I can think.”

“Is that a polite way of telling me to fuck off?” he said, even though his throat was getting tight and he could feel anger welling up. He missed her so goddamn much and she didn't seem to give a shit whether she ever saw him again or not. He supposed he should have known when she didn't text or call on Christmas. The second her father had shown up, she'd made her choice.

“I just want to walk home,” she said, annoyingly calm.

“I'll walk you,” he said, not willing to let her go just yet.

“You haven't talked to me in three days and now you want to talk?” she said. “Fine. Let's talk. How was your Christmas?”

“You don't care about that,” he said.

“Oh I do,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as a taxi honked loudly on the street next to them. “I'm sure you had an amazing time with your gigantic family and all your fucking holiday cheer.” He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. She snorted out an angry laugh and then turned and walked away. He jammed his hands in his pockets and followed her. He kept a short distance behind her, mulling over all the things he wanted to say. What he wanted most was to get her in his car and take her back to his bed and do dirty things to her until she admitted that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. “Stop following me,” she tossed back over her shoulder. “I don't want to talk to you.”

“Too bad,” he said, pulling his own hood over his head as the wind kicked up around them.

“Isn't this stalking or something? Couldn't I get you arrested?”

“Call 911,” he said. “See how far it'll get you.”

“You're such an asshole,” she snapped, stomping to the crosswalk and stepping out into the street. A big black SUV roared past and Tate snapped to action. He slid his hands around her waist and yanked her back, out of the way of the oncoming traffic. She stumbled into him and he pulled her in closer, his arms sinking into the puffiness of her coat.

“Careful,” he said, even though it was hard to talk with his heart pounding in his throat.

“It was nowhere near me,” she grumbled, but she didn't move away from his touch.

“It was close enough,” he responded. “Too close.”

The light changed and the signal flashed that it was okay to walk. He didn't let her go, though. He wanted to drag her back to the car and force her to ride with him. He was in the mood to drive. He didn't care where. He just wanted to get away from all the shit and he wanted her to warm up to him again and he wanted everything back to the way it used to be between them. But he had no idea what to say or do to make that happen.

“Tate,” she said, breaking through his thoughts. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me why your day was shitty,” he said. “Or say you'll let me drive you home.”

“I'm tired,” she said, but she still didn't attempt to break away from his hold on her. He took that as a good sign. “Besides, it's not like you care so stop pretending you do.” He furrowed his brow at her words, wondering why the hell she would think he didn't care. After everything that they'd done and everything that had happened, that fucking pissed him off. All he did was think about her all day and night and she still thought he didn't give a shit about her? He dropped his arms and took a step back. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, her eyes barely visible past the fur of her hood. She stared at him for what seemed like a long time but was probably only a second or two. “Sam tried to steal the money,” she said and it took him a minute to decipher what she was saying. Then it all came to him in a flash. The twenty grand. The money that Sam had left her. The money she was planning on using for culinary school. “On Christmas, he came over to Gina's and I caught him going through my stuff.”

Tate didn't say anything, just stared back at her. His anger, which had started as a tiny spark, suddenly was roaring at full flame. She had invited a shit-storm into her house and then was shocked when it made a mess. He'd warned her and she'd ignored him. She'd chosen that fucking criminal over him, in fact. And yet, somehow, she was still pissed at him and acting like he was the one that had fucked her over. Unbelievable.

“Where is he?” Tate said.

“What?” She turned to look at him fully.

“I said, where the fuck is he?” Tate said, clenching his fists at his sides. He had an itch to get the bastard off the street and she was acting like she had no idea what he was talking about. But she was going to find out real quick how serious he was. He had no intentions of going easy on Sam Spears. It didn't matter that it wasn't his case file anymore. It didn't matter that he in homicide and no longer on the beat. None of that shit mattered. He only had one thing on his mind.

Sam Spears was going to wish he'd never stepped foot back in New York City.

***

Shay should've just gotten in his car.

She should have just let Tate drive her home, she knew that now. If she'd let him drive her home, they wouldn't be in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling at each other like two idiots. But she was too angry. She'd been angry for two days. Angry at her father for being such a huge failure. Angry at herself for letting everything happen the way it had. But at that moment, she was most angry at Tate.

For the first time since she'd met him, she took one look at his huge frame and dead stare and actually felt afraid. Not afraid for herself, but afraid for the one person she knew she shouldn't love but she still did. She was afraid for the one person who didn't deserve any love or consideration from her. She hated herself for being so weak. And she hated Tate for threatening her in that way. She hated him because it was easy. She hated him because it was convenient.

And he was making it so easy.

"I'll find him. I'll turn this city upside down looking for him. Then I'll throw his ass in jail and do everything I can to get him denied bail,” he growled, leaning in close to her.

"You're not going to do a damn thing," she said, her teeth clenched so hard that she almost worried they would break. “You're going to go and get in your car and drive away and leave us alone.”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I'm going to catch his stupid ass and them I'm going to testify at his trial. I'll make sure he gets a long sentence. I'll make sure he rots in prison."

"No," she hissed. "You're going to leave him alone."

"Sorry, baby," he stepped closer to her until his face was inches from hers. "I'm going to make him pay."

"Stay out of it. It's none of your fucking business!" She could hear the shrill panic in her voice but she couldn't stop herself. She knew Tate was serious. Deadly serious. He was a cop, through and through. He wasn't going to stop until he followed through with his words. A hatred for cops had been born and bred in her for that very reason. She was bound by the criminal code, even if she wasn't a criminal anymore. She was a criminal's daughter and that was a life sentence.

"You are my business," he said, his words cutting through her. "If he wants to fuck with that, I'll bring the fight to him. I'll make him wish to God that he never came back here."

"It has nothing to do with you," she spat out, knowing that it was useless. Tate was going to be like a dog with a bone. He would never let it go, and there was nothing she could do about it. She hated feeling helpless. She hated feeling like she wasn't at the driver's seat of her own life. All the fucking men around her kept trying to force her to go their way. When all she wanted was to be free of it. To be free of all the bullshit.

"No, it's about you!" he barked out. "Why can't you fucking see that?" He grabbed her arms and she didn't even think. She pulled away so fast she almost stumbled and when he tried to grab her again, she shoved him as hard as she could. She could barely budge him, but as soon as she did it, the world seemed to go silent. She lifted her eyes to his and he was staring down at her, his face in shadow.

"Go away," she said, forcing herself to breathe. The frigid air burned her nostrils and throat but she kept gulping in air anyway. Her chest was so tight and her lungs felt like they were too big for her chest. Her heart was pounding. For a brief second, she wondered if she was having a heart-attack. “I'm done.” The words were simple, but she watched the impact of them hit him. She saw the slight reaction in his eyes. He was a master at the art of hiding his emotions, but if she watched his eyes, sometimes she could catch a glimpse of the truth because she knew where to look. She could tell he didn't believe her, even though he'd heard her loud and clear. “Don't come around anymore,” she said, surprised at how strong her voice sounded. But then her breath hitched in her throat and she almost choked on it.