Rhys (Secrets Book 1) Read online

  “I’ll bring her back, along with you bringing me back. Deal?”

  “Okay, I’d like to try. If I can help you, surely you can help me. It’ll take time, but I have faith in you. If you do anything to break my confidence in you, I’ll have your balls on a platter. Better?”

  Instantly the mood has turned from unsure to cheerful, and her comment about my balls has me hysterically laughing. It takes me a few beats to catch my breath.

  “There she is. She’s not hiding too much.”

  “Like I said, you bring her out.” She winks at me.

  “No, no winking—it looks awkward as fuck coming from you.” Grabbing her hand, I bring it to my mouth, pressing a kiss to the middle of her palm as I wink at her. “Now you see how creepy a wink is, right?” Before she can reply, I’m asking another question, throwing her off—which is good. I always want her to be surprised by me.

  “So, friend, would you like to come over sometime this week to hang out and watch a movie? I’ll cook dinner and we can be ourselves. No pressure.”

  “I work all week but the shop closes at six. If seven-ish is okay with you, I’m free all week. Also, friend, I’ll bring takeout, you supply the movie.”

  She pulls her hand from my grip, turns around, and proceeds to walk back into her store. I’m stuck on the sidewalk staring after her. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d been dismissed again. She doesn’t give me much time to question myself, though—she’s opens the door and asks me back inside before I know what hit me.

  “Are you coming back in, Reese’s Pieces? Or do you not want to keep me company for a while?”

  “We do need to decide on a night for hanging out, so yeah, I’m coming inside.”

  “Hurry up then. I still have a few minutes left for lunch and I’m starving.”

  “Woman, how can you be starving when you ate nearly a whole order of General Tso’s?”

  “Firstable, rude. Secondable, don’t ever knock my eating. I’m like Joey from Friends. ‘Joey doesn’t share food!’, and my stomach knows no bounds. Thirdable, seriously? Since when are you a caveman?” She’s huffing with agitation, mumbling to herself again about men and sexist comments, something about me calling her woman.

  She’s walking away from me again and my gaze instantly drops to her ass. If she thinks my woman comment was caveman-like, she’d be eating her words if I voiced my thoughts. All I can think about is biting her bite-able ass, or bending her over the counter, taking her from behind, and watching her ass bounce with each thrust.

  It’s all I can do not to bite my fist.

  It’s been too long since a woman has warmed my bed. If we’re going to be friends, I need to stop thinking about her in a sexual way. A one-night stand sounds amazing right about now; maybe it’d get my mind off of sex with Averill so I can focus on strictly being her friend.

  “Did you leave?” she calls out from her back office. Shit, I didn’t notice she left the room, too busy visualizing what dirty sex would be like between us.

  “No, I’m still here. I’m checking out the store.” It’s a lie, but one I hope she doesn’t catch. “I’ll be back there in a minute. I want to see what all you stock. I’m intrigued. You said this is a chain, right? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Yeah, we have stores in all the major cities. This is the first one not in a major metropolitan area. It’s also a franchise. Technically this store is all mine, hence why I work too much. It’s my baby. Eventually, I’d like to stock my own creations. It’s why I decided to purchase this particular franchise. I was working at the flagship store in San Francisco, and when they mentioned branching out, I jumped at the chance.”

  “Let me get this straight: it’s a chain, but you can stock whatever you please?”

  “Not exactly, but I can stock extra products if it makes sense. Hold on a second, I’ll explain further. It’s hard to talk and eat, ya know?”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re sassing me.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely sassing you. Now, let me eat in peace.”

  “And you say you’re reserved. Mmmhm, suuure you are.”

  She doesn’t reply and I do what she asked, leaving her be for a few minutes. There’s some interesting clothes in here, that’s for certain. I’m looking at the collection of bras when she joins me in the main room.

  “Did you need a new bra? I did notice your man-boobs are a tad bit saggy, but I didn’t want to say anything in case you’re embarrassed about them.”

  “Well the guys at work have been commenting on their lack of support lately,” I snap right back. If she wants to be a smartass, I can be a smartass. “Actually, I was looking at this number here”—I point to the dark aqua-colored bra nearest me—“and pictured you wearing it. The color would look incredible against your skin.”

  “Friends don’t think about what friends would look like in lingerie, Rhys.”

  Shrugging, I make my way over to where she’s standing. “I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not…but, you’re also right, so I take my comment back. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an apology. I’m simply taking my comment back. And, as a bonus, I’ll keep the rest of ’em to myself.”

  “Alrighty then. I’m flipping the lock, so any customers can now come in. If you’d still like me to explain about stocking certain products, I can, or we can agree on a night to get together and you can leave.”

  Friends, she wants friendship.

  Making up my mind, I decide I’ll go out tonight and look for a willing female. Maybe Brant will meet me for drinks. With it being a Monday, he’ll probably pass, but I’ll go one way or another—I’ve got to get laid in order for my brain to be able to function properly around Averill.

  If I think it over and over, maybe it’ll get through. Repeat, friendship.

  “Will Wednesday evening work for you? I have a full day tomorrow and I know I won’t be home until way after nine. Wednesday, my calendar is pretty light. Thursday, I’ll be working from Chicago. Unless my boss calls before then, I should be working from here both tomorrow and Wednesday.”

  “What’s the date today?” she inquires.

  “April 5th, why?”

  “Because I actually have plans this coming Wednesday. My friend Tessa is flying in this week. It slipped my mind. I’m sorry, for some reason I thought she was visiting next week. I’m completely scatterbrained, I swear—and to think, it’s only Monday. Rain check?”

  “No problem. Would you like to get together next week or will this weekend work? Normally I don’t work on weekends, so mine should be pretty open. I could always take you out dancing or to see the town if you don’t want to come over for a movie.”

  “Tessa will be in town for nearly two weeks. We’re actually going to a concert on Saturday night at a local club, here in town. We’re both huge fans of this band, Sunset Sons. When I saw they were playing here, I couldn’t pass up the chance to see them.”

  Could she be any more perfect?

  “I love Sunset Sons too—Rory is a badass. I didn’t know they were coming. What club are they playing at?”

  “Hold up, you know who they are?”

  “Yep. They may be an indie band, but they actually have a pretty solid fan base here. I saw them about a year back in Chicago. I should check to see if they have any tickets left. Brant likes ’em as well.”

  “Holy shit. My mind is blown right now. I stumbled upon their songs one day when a friend in London posted a link to a video of them live, and it was love at first strum.”

  Her eyes glaze over thinking about it. I love learning we have something in common. She’s still lost in thought when the bell above the door chimes but she quickly snaps out of it and greets her new customer.

  “I’ll call you later, we can discuss our plans then.”

  Kissing her on the cheek, I walk out the door. Today turned out better than I planned.

  I’m opening my car door when my cell rings.

  “What’s up, dickm
unch?” I answer while getting in the car. It’s Brant and after this weekend, I doubt he’d like it much if I put his call to voicemail.

  “I was calling to tell you about the case you helped me with. The clients signed, and I want to celebrate. Wanna grab a beer or two later?”

  “Oddly enough, I was going to ask you the same thing. Hey, did you know Sunset Sons is playing here this weekend?”

  “No, I had no idea. Where at?”

  “Not sure, but I’ll check once I get home and we can talk about it over beers. The normal place at six?”

  “Sounds good. See ya then, assface.”

  “Eat a dick,” I say before hanging up.

  I’m pulling out when my phone rings again. Ugh, I hate talking while I’m driving—using my hands-free is still a distraction.

  “Gallhagar,” I bite out.

  “You’re needed again. Be in Chicago by five tonight.”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, I hear the call disconnect.

  There goes my day off.

  Brant was pissed when I canceled, but he did find out where the band is playing this weekend. They had a few tickets left and he grabbed two, so I’ll call Averill later and let her know I’ll see her there.

  I’m on the highway, halfway to Chicago, when it hits me how much I want out of this life. I’m no closer today than I was two years ago to finding out why Vinny was killed. At this rate, I’ll be dead before I find out.

  I know how he died: he took a bullet to the mouth, a hit ordered by his own father. What I don’t understand is why.

  This ‘family’ doesn’t operate like anything I’ve ever witnessed. For being a so-called mob, they sure don’t follow any of the normal rules. On the other hand, who am I fucking kidding—since when do criminals follow any rules? When I met Vinny, I had no idea he was in this business. He never let it slip to Brant or myself.

  Odd, isn’t it?

  Someone who ended up eating a bullet for being a snitch never uttered a single word about who he truly was. Irony at its finest.

  Turns out Mikey was close to Vinny as well. We’ve talked about him briefly, but I’ve never let him in on my knowing Vinny prior to taking the job with them. I only trust Mikey as far as I could throw him. He’s a big guy, and I doubt I could manage to shove him an inch.

  I’ve yet to call and cancel my scheduled meetings for tomorrow; who knows, I may be back home tonight. It’s both a blessing and a curse living this close to Chicago.

  It’s a blessing because I have almost instant access to something to do. Everything you could ask for is less than a three-hour drive away. Don’t get me wrong, Grand Rapids has a great nightlife, but Chicago has more…culture. More museums, more art galleries. More.

  It’s a curse because it means it was easier than it should have been for me to find Martinelli and get a job. Who in their right mind seeks out a known mob boss for a job? He hired me for force. I offered him legal advice. We compromised and I do both.

  My itch to get out has been on high alert these last few months. If I had concrete evidence, I could turn the whole lot in to the FBI and go into protective custody. It’s probably thoughts like this that lead to Vinny being killed.

  Groaning in frustration, I see my exit coming up. You don’t know how tempting it is to keep on driving and never look back. If it weren’t for my ties to Brant, I’d do it. If he weren’t the only real family I had left, I’d go.

  Mikey better be there when I pull in. He’s the one who knows where I’m needed. When the boss called, he didn’t give me any instructions, other than me being needed in Chicago. I think he uses me more often because he knows how much I hate it. He knows I’d rather deal with the legal side of the business. If I didn’t have such a knockout punch, I wouldn’t be a criminal.

  You chose this life.

  Pulling into the vacant warehouse’s gravel lot, I spot Mikey’s dark SUV. He’s lucky. I’m not in the mood to be left waiting.

  Parking my car, I make sure to lock it up tight and hop into his vehicle.

  “Where’s your truck? And why are dressed like a hoodlum?” he asks while pulling out onto the street.

  “I own two vehicles, and I was already driving when I received the call. Last I checked, we didn’t have a dress code and I don’t answer to you.”

  Since when does a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans make someone a hoodlum? It’s not like I’m dressed badly; there are no holes in this shirt. As of a couple hours ago, I wasn’t needed. Why the hell should it matter what I’m wearing?

  “Whatever, I was trying to make conversation. Forget I asked,” he grumbles.

  Great, I’ve pissed him off. Seems I have a knack for pissing people off lately.

  “Look, I was out to lunch when the call came in, a casual lunch. I’m not driving the truck because I felt like driving my car today. She hasn’t been driven in a while. Since the weather was nice and the snow has all melted, I wanted to take her out, stretch her legs.”

  Instead of answering me, he nods, turns up the radio, and proceeds toward wherever the hell it is I’m needed.

  Twenty minutes later, we pull up to a ramshackle house. This place looks like it’s ready to fall apart any minute now, like all it would take is someone knocking on the door for it to come crumbling down. Some of the windows’ shutters are lying across the front yard as if they’ve fallen and no one has bothered to pick them up. The house itself is in disarray and badly in need of some loving care—or a bulldozer.

  “Fill me in quickly and don’t let me go in blind. I’d also like to state before we go inside, I want this to be over fast. No drawing the pain out tonight. I’m tired and don’t plan on staying over in the city. My own bed is much preferred.”

  “Whatever man, I’m just following the boss’s orders. I’ll do what he wants done, not what you want done.” Looking over at me, he turns off the radio and circles the block to give himself time to fill me in. “Dude’s name inside is Frank Zupper. He owes nearly twenty Gs; the boss wants the cash or his arms broken. He requested a message be sent, and you’re lucky enough to have been called in with me. I’ve tried three times to collect now, so unless I put a bullet in him, he’s not going to listen to me. You, on the other hand, have the magic fists.”

  Last night was an easy one. The guy caved as soon as I threatened to use force. It doesn’t sound like this guy is going to listen as well.

  “He lives in a piece-of-shit rundown house and he owes us twenty large? From the looks of his place, we’ll be lucky to walk out with twenty bucks.”

  “You have your orders. Get the money or break an arm. I don’t give a shit what you do as long as the boss is happy. You follow?”

  After this weekend, I don’t want to end up on anyone’s bad side. Not Mikey’s, not Saul’s, no one’s. I’ll go in there and do what needs to be done, without further argument.

  “I follow.”

  This is the part of my ‘job’ I hate the most—breaking people. Whether it’s their limbs or their pride, I hate myself for doing it. Before, when it was only about getting answers, I could block it out…mostly. I’d go into a different frame of mind. I’d become who I was trained to be. A soldier. A killer. Whatever was needed for me to deal.

  Now it’s different.

  Now I hate myself for my actions.

  Now I want out.

  Now I can taste what it’d feel like to be washed clean.

  Now I can be free.

  Forgiven.

  Taking a deep breath, I get out of the vehicle to go beat some answers out of a mostly innocent man. Knowing next to nothing about him, I can’t judge if he’s completely innocent. He did borrow money from the wrong people, after all.

  Steeling myself, I bust through the front door without knocking. It’s better to keep them off guard. He’s used to Mikey’s ways, but not mine. The door splinters under my strength, causing the man lounging in an arm chair to jump to the floor.

  “Frank Zupper?” I ask while nodding to the
man sprawled across the floor in fear.

  “Wh-Who-Who’s asking?” he manages to stutter out. Instead of answering, Mikey appears in the doorway behind me. “Hey, I told you I’d have the money today. There’s no need for this.”

  When Frank moves to pull himself up, I notice a puddle on the floor and the wet spot on the front of his jeans—he’s pissed himself, and all I’ve done is broken in the door.

  Mikey doesn’t attempt to talk. He knows how I work.

  “You have the money? Or do I need to do more than make you piss yourself?”

  “W-W-Well, I do have some of the funds, not all of ’em. Can’t we work something out?”

  Fuck, when he said he had the money, I figured this would be easy. He’d hand it over and we’d be done. The only harm would be to his pride.

  “Now, now, Frank, you know as well as I do, Mr. Martinelli has struggled to come to terms with you on this issue previously. He won’t be giving you an extension any longer. Compensation is needed in full. Today. If you don’t have it all, I’ll have to take what’s still owed out on your limbs. Mikey here has attempted to go easy on you. Give up the twenty G’s, or I’ll get them another way.”

  As I’m saying this, I make a play out of him noticing my hands, cracking my knuckles, punching my palm, etc. I do whatever I can do to bring his attention to my hands—hands that will soon be bringing him pain.

  “But I have nearly half! Isn’t there some way we could work this out?” he begs.

  “Yesterday, this issue could have been worked out. Agreements could’ve been made. You chose not to work through this with Mikey. Your decisions impact what happens here today. If you have half, I’ll take half and do you the courtesy of breaking one arm instead of two.”

  Sputtering out his reply, he makes good on his promise and walks over to a safe on the wall I hadn’t noticed before now. Handing over the cash to Mikey, he asks one final thing before I move to make good on my promise to break his arm.