Anticipation (2 page)

Eddie had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “You’re seriously giving me a hard time over Denise?”

“Yeah, Eddie, I am.” She lifted her chin, daring him to try to sweep his shitty behavior under the rug.

“She was jealous. You know how it goes,” he said.

“Of course I know how it goes. Doesn’t make you being a douche bag okay.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing by whom?” She could hear the bite beneath her words and hated herself for it. She wasn’t an abandoned puppy, whining for her master’s attention. Just because she loved Eddie didn’t mean she was his doormat. She had her own life, her own needs and wants and ambitions. The day she forgot that was the day she took a long walk off a short pier. “You know what? Forget about it. I’m sure the blonde will go to Subterrain with you.”

“Blue. Come on.”

His other hand landed on her opposite shoulder, preventing her from leaving. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. She wasn’t giving in on this. She had her self-respect.

“I’m not some toy you can pick up and put down when it suits you. I’m a person. I’m supposed to be your friend,” she said.

“You really want to get into this?”

She didn’t move, and neither did he. She clenched her jaw, holding back the rush of words crowding her throat. No way was she telling him how much she’d missed him. How much he’d hurt her with his benign, casual neglect. No. Freaking. Way.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long beat. “I should have told her to get over it.”

He was sincere, she could see it in his face. She felt herself waver, and when he slid his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, she softened even more.

“I’m a dumb asshole, and I really am sorry. You know I couldn’t live without you,” he said, his voice rough and low with emotion.

Every inch of her was aware of the place where his palm pressed against her nape. He stood so close she could smell his deodorant and the warm scent of his skin.

“Don’t do it again,” she said, her voice just as rough and low as his.

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Scout.”

“I like to camp. That counts.”

She aimed a finger at him, stabbing him in the chest with it. “Don’t try to be charming. I’m not one of your women.”

Which was the whole point, really.

He did his best to look suitably chastened. “So, you want to grab a cab now or hang out here a bit more before we kick on?”

Was he serious? Had he not heard a word she’d said?

“I told you, I have other plans.” And she refused to drop everything just because he’d crooked his little finger, apology or no apology.

“To do what?”

“To have my brains fucked out.”

His hand slid away from her neck. “Tell me you’re not hooking up with that asshole.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Reid.” He said the single word with a pronounced, very Brazilian curl of his lip.

“None of your business.”

He frowned. They knew each other too well for him to read her evasion as anything other than assent.

“The guy is trouble, Blue.”

“I’m not marrying him. There’s no need for you to get your panties in a wad.”

She knew why Eddie was worried — they were both privy to the talk that floated around Brothers Ink, the tattoo studio Rafel and Eddie owned together. Rumor had it that Reid was connected to the local biker gang, but what did that matter to her? The only part of him she was interested in was his body, and then only for the next few hours.

“Can you not be a smart-ass for five seconds? The guy is bad news.” Eddie’s accent was more pronounced, a sure sign he was getting worked up.

“I can run my own private life, thanks.”

She shouldered past him but knew without looking that he followed her outside. It was cold, a typical mid-winter Melbourne night, the wind sharp as a knife. Eddie caught the collar of her denim jacket as she tried to shrug into it, jerking it away from her.

“Will you listen to me?”

She spun toward him, all the hurt of the past few months welling up inside her. “No, I won’t. You’ve been AWOL from my life for three months, Eddie. You don’t get to throw your weight around when you haven’t
been
around.”

“Fine. Be shitty with me, do whatever you need to do. But stay away from Reid, okay? Promise me.”

There was so much fierce protection in his eyes. If his sister hadn’t died young, Blue imagined he would have been like this with her, too. Determined to save her from herself.

For some reason, it made Blue even madder. He was such an infuriating, self-indulgent, lazy, arrogant prick sometimes.

“You worry about your own sex life. God knows it’s enough of a disaster zone.”

“This isn’t about me.”

She pulled her jacket from his grasp and slipped into it. “I can look after myself.”

Eddie knew that better than most, which made his big-brother routine even more laughable.

“Go find that blonde. Odds are good she’ll do anything you tell her to,” she told him before turning away.

The traffic cleared for a brief moment and she stepped onto the street. She could feel Eddie watching her, could feel the gravitational pull of his disapproval, anger, and concern, but she didn’t so much as glance back. She was too pissed with him, for too many reasons to count.

A car had stopped on the other side of the road, signal blinking as the driver waited for a parking spot to become available. Blue darted over the white center line, aiming to cut in front of the stationary car. She was in the middle of the lane when she heard the loud roar of a motorcycle engine. Instinct snapped her head around.

A single headlight bore down on her so fast she barely had time to register it.

Then the world went black.

Chapter Two

They were taking too long. Way too long.

Eddie shot out of his seat, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the doorway. Silently willing someone — anyone — to enter the hospital waiting room and tell him that Blue was going to be okay.

That she was alive.

She’d been in surgery for more than two hours. Lying on a table while doctors tried to put her back together.

“She’ll be okay, Eddie,” Maggie said.

He could feel her gaze on him as he started pacing again, needing to do something to burn off the adrenaline jangling its way through his body.

“You don’t know that.”

“Blue’s tough. She’s young. She’s healthy. The ambulance was there within a matter of minutes…”

Eddie shook his head, unable to accept Maggie’s reassurance. The image of Blue’s slight form being tossed through the air like a rag doll was still too bright and terrible in his mind. He could hear the explosive crash of the motorbike crumpling on impact, the sickening thud of her body hitting the road. And every time he closed his eyes for longer than a few seconds, her too-pale face smeared with blood was there, filling his vision.

The worst moment of his life, hands down. Watching the bike swerve out from around the stationary car, knowing that she was going to be hit, that there was nothing he could do about it…

Nausea churned in his gut. Why didn’t someone — a doctor, a nurse,
someone
— come and tell them what was happening? Didn’t they know that people went nuts imagining the worst when they had nothing else to go on?

“Sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” Rafel said.

Eddie ignored his brother, pacing to the end of the room before swiveling on his heel. If he was a religious man, he’d be on his knees, pleading with God to spare her. Since he wasn’t, he settled for willing her better. Willing her to fight. Willing her to survive so that he could once again be the victim of her sharp tongue and take-no-prisoners attitude.

Blue had been a part of his life for ten years and was as dear to him as his brother. She kept Eddie honest, goading him to do better, to look his faults square in the eye and attempt to mend them. She celebrated with him, teased him, partied with him. She was his friend, his confidante, his conscience.

If she died…

“Jesus.”

He wasn’t aware that he’d spoken out loud until he felt the warm weight of Maggie’s hand on his arm. He stopped pacing as she slipped her hand into his.

“She’s going to make it, Eddie.”

“She’s five foot nothing. I can lift her with one arm.”

She might have personality to spare, but Blue was tiny. No match for a motorbike.

Maggie simply squeezed his hand again before putting her arms around him and giving him a hug. He stood like a rock, resisting her comfort. Needing to hang onto his fear. At the moment, it felt as though it was the only thing keeping disaster at bay.

“You’re waiting on Ms.Sullivan, is that right?”

Eddie swung toward the voice. A nurse dressed in baggy theatre scrubs stood in the doorway.

“Is she okay?” he asked, taking a step forward.

His heart was pounding so hard and fast he could feel his chest vibrating with the force of it.

Please let her be alive.

“The doctor will be with you shortly, but he asked me to tell you that she came through with flying colors. He’ll give you more detail.”

“So she’s going to make it?” Eddie asked, unable to trust what his ears were telling him. Unable to accept that his worst fear wasn’t going to eventuate.

“She is. She’ll be sore, and she’ll be on crutches for a while, but she’s a very lucky lady.” The nurse gave them all a weary smile before slipping back into the corridor.

“Thank God,” Maggie said, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

She crossed to Rafel and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Eddie stared at them, his mind blank, aware of a sudden, crushing pressure in his chest. Rafel said something, but Eddie couldn’t hear it past the white noise in his ears.

He took off, striding from the room, leaving behind the walls that had been closing in on him, speeding up when he spotted the glowing green sign for the exit. And then he was outside in the cold night air, away from the sights and sounds and smells of the hospital, away from his brother’s gaze. He let his head drop back, staring at the stars, the knowledge that Blue was going to be all right finally sinking in.

Which was when relief hit him, taking out his knees, stealing his breath. He sank into a crouch, his butt barely an inch from the ground, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He dropped the rest of the way down, letting his head fall forward as emotion slaughtered him.

She was okay. The indomitable force of nature that was Blue Sullivan would live to fight another day.

Thank God.

Thank the universe.

Thank whoever was in charge of small, very important mercies, because he never wanted to know what life would be like without her.

Someone exited the hospital, and he heard their steps falter as whoever it was registered the grown man sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn’t look up. Screw it. So what if he was a blubbering mess? Blue was okay.

After half a second, the interloper moved off and he heard the snick of a cigarette lighter. A faint hint of smoke wafted his way, and a memory washed over him, dragged from some deep, dark corner of his brain by the sensory trigger — Blue delivering a lecture on Big Tobacco to a six-foot-six, tattooed hulk of a man who’d dared to light up in her vicinity.

It was an old memory, as old as their friendship. From the day they’d met, in fact.

He’d been sitting in the tattoo parlor where she’d been doing her apprenticeship, waiting to get his second tattoo, ink-fever having already made its mark on him. She’d had long blue hair then — he’d never seen it any other color — her makeup gothic-dark and heavy on the mascara and kohl, her jeans so tight it was a wonder she could breathe. Every guy in the shop had watched as she moved around the studio, cleaning workstations, answering the phone and sharing her unsolicited opinion on smoking with the bearded bear Eddie had later realized was her boss.

Typical Blue, never short of an opinion and never shy about sharing it. She’d hovered nearby when the artist got to work on the tattoo on Eddie’s bicep, her gaze eagle-sharp as she watched the artist’s technique. She was the one who cleaned him off afterward, her touch impersonal and brisk as she applied antiseptic cream to his angry-looking skin.

“I like this design,” she’d said. “Where’d you find it?”

“I drew it.”

“Yeah?” He could still remember the way she’d looked him over as though she was mentally recalibrating her opinion of him. “It’s good.”

She’d said it simply, absolutely confident that her opinion counted for something in the world.

“My brother and I are studying at the Victorian College of the Arts,” he’d explained, trying to flick it off casually.

“La-di-da-da. They give you a free polo pony with your degree?” she’d said.

He’d been so used to getting what he wanted when it came to women that it had taken him a moment to realize he’d been shot down in flames.