Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One (34 page)

She turned to Reilly, who looked happy enough to
just stand back and watch the proceedings—Reilly was so laid-back, sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t adopted. “Reilly, would you please throw some water on these guys or take them out back and let them beat the crap out of each other? I don’t care what they do as long as they don’t do it in here. I’ve had enough.”

She didn’t wait for a response before ignoring the lot of them and focusing on Pete. “Pete, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. I talked to Rex last night and he’s on his way home. I tried to tell you earlier. I went into the office to talk to you but ran into Slater instead. I’m not his favorite person, obviously.”

Pete pulled her aside. “Skye, I can see you’re upset, but I don’t understand. What the hell happened? Yesterday afternoon everything was fine. What changed?”

Slater let out a laugh that was more menacing than funny. “She’s not leaving, Pop—she’s running. She probably found out Logan’s not as rich as he looks. You know princesses expect a pedigree and Logan doesn’t have one.”

Her head whipped back to Slater. The man could go from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Jackass with a chip the size of Mount Rushmore on his shoulder in under a minute—she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

Pete speared him a warning look that had Slater taking a full step back. After seeing that look, she had no problem imagining Pete as the tough detective he was purported to be. “That’s enough out of you, boy. Skye’s brothers are our guests. If you can’t be nice, go upstairs and check on Nicki.”

Slater gave him a curt nod, and shot her another disapproving glare. “Your psycho fantasies aside, my
brother is no cheater.” He looked back at his father and shrugged. “I’ll be at the end of the bar if you need me, Pop.”

“Fine, just don’t cause any trouble, and I mean it, Slater. I don’t know what bug flew up your ass, but it ends here. Do I make myself clear?”

Red stripes sharpened Slater’s cheekbones like war paint against his pale skin. His hazel eyes flashed over the crowd, then settled on Pete. “Yes, sir.”

Skye leaned into Pete. “Military?”

“Navy.”

“I hope he’s better at following orders than at conversation.”

Pete cracked a smile. “Let me get a drink—not a word, young lady.”

“I’m not saying anything. While you’re back there, pour me one of whatever you’re having. I could use something—anything but champagne, that is.”

“Go on back to the office. I’ll bring the drinks and we’ll talk about whatever it is that’s got everyone in an uproar, okay?”

She nodded and took a step forward. All her brothers moved in unison. She turned. “I’m fine. Just do me a favor—sit down and behave yourselves. You too, Rocki.” She smiled up at Francis. “Feed them dessert.”

Francis clapped her shoulder. “Sure, Skye. I’ll babysit the boys.”

Skye finished packing and had everything ready to leave. The limo was waiting to take her and her brothers to the airport. The only thing she hadn’t done was say good-bye to Nicki. She checked her watch. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She packed up Pepperoni’s toys and food, put her on her leash, and let the dog pull her across the alley.

Letting herself into Pete’s apartment, Skye took Pepperoni off her leash. When she stood, she saw the second-to-last man she ever wanted to see.

Slater tossed the book he’d been reading on the coffee table and stood, forcing her to look up. If he’d stayed seated, they would have been almost the same height.

She waved him off. “Give it up, Slater. I don’t intimidate easily, and I’m not in the mood. I’m here to drop off Pepperoni and say good-bye to Nicki. Where is she?”

“She went to her room after dinner. She’s been there all night.”

“Is she asleep?”

Slater shrugged.

“Did you tuck her in?”

He looked confused.

“You know, put her to bed, pull the covers over her and her teddy bear. Hugs and kisses, prayers…”

He stared as if she’d asked him if he had a spare tampon she could borrow.

“I take that as a no.” She ignored the answering glare and turned down the hall to Nicki’s room and knocked on the door. D.O.G. and Pepperoni circled each other in the narrow space and pushed her into the wall. “Nicki, it’s Skye. Can I come in?”

There was no answer.

She opened the door and peeked in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The shadow of Nicki sitting holding her teddy bear under one arm and her iPad to her chest became clear. She didn’t move, she only stared into space—small, lost, dejected, alone.

The dogs ran in. D.O.G. leaped on the bed and it took three tries for Pepperoni to make the jump. The dogs nudged Nicki. D.O.G. whined and licked her face. Pepperoni stood on Nicki’s lap, rested her paws on Nicki’s shoulders, and gave her kisses. Nicki didn’t move. She didn’t pet them. She didn’t even blink.

“Hey, Nicki. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Nicki looked at her—or rather through her. Her voice was flat—like a computer-generated voice that told you to press one for Spanish. It was low, steady, emotionless, vacant.

She knew.

Skye’s heartbeat slowed. She looked around the perfect pink room with the canopy bed. A perfect room for a little girl with a less than perfect life. And now Skye was going to make it worse. She’d never intended to hurt Nicki, but that was exactly what she was doing. Guilt
rested like a two-ton anvil around her neck, pulling her down. She thought she’d sunk as low as humanly possible into the depths of depression. She was wrong. “Nicki, Rex is coming back, and I’m going to have to leave. I wanted to say good-bye.”

“Sure. Bye.” Nicki tossed her iPad on the bed, wrapped her arm around D.O.G., and sank into the bedding, turning her back to Skye.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

Pepperoni rested her head on Nicki’s hip and whined. Staring at Skye with those bulging, expressive, worried eyes.

“I can’t stay, but it has nothing to do with you.” Her heart beat hard. So hard it felt as if her blood had turned to sludge—too thick to flow.

“You’re a grown-up. You can do whatever you want.”

Every word hit Skye like a three-inch nail shot out of a pneumatic nail gun.

“You just don’t want to stay—not bad enough.”

She stepped back with each hit.

“You love Logan, but not enough.”

Pain—hot and sharp—radiated through her, starting at her head and not stopping until even the soles of her feet burned.

“That’s okay. Me and Logan, we’re used to not enough, so go ahead and leave.”

“I’m sorry.” Skye held back a sob. She released the grip on the chair that had been holding her up and backed out of the room. She closed the door and slumped against the wall. The steel bands that had wrapped around her when she looked at that first picture of Logan
cinched tighter with every hit. Nicki’s dismissal was the final crank.

Slater stood there, arms crossed. His smile looked more like a sneer chiseled in granite, his eyes dull and lifeless and shuttered. “I guess she told you, huh?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, but still the sob escaped.

He stared through her just like Nicki had, just like Logan had. “You know the way out, right, princess? Go ahead, run away.”

She dropped her hand and stared up at him. “For your information, I’m not a princess.”

Slater laughed. “Yeah, I know your type—you’re the princess who likes to slum it with us bad boys until it gets a little too hard, a little too dirty, or a little too serious, and then you go running back to Daddy and your nice castle with your servants and rich boys you can lead around by the nose. Was Logan your little fling on the dark side before settling down with a well-heeled, pedigreed pooch? If this is how you treat Logan, he’s better off with Payton.”

He hadn’t just rammed the knife through her heart; he twisted it like spaghetti on a fork. “You’re a sick, cruel, small, small man.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a twisted smile. “Yeah, but at least I don’t hurt innocent little girls. If I’m so fuckin’ cruel, what’s that make you?”

Skye burst into tears. She couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t care what she looked like. She had to get out of there.

Slater’s laughter chased her out the door and down the steps.

Skye flew through the outer door; the sharp cold wind slapped her wet face. The limo waited by the curb, the door opened, and she launched herself inside.

Her brothers piled in behind her, shooting worried looks at one another.

Skye pulled the sweatshirt around her and curled into a ball. Sure, she was running. Just not fast enough to leave behind the anger, guilt, betrayal, and loss. Not fast enough to evade the pain. Not strong enough to dodge the tears. Not good enough to win Logan’s heart.

Not good enough totally sucked.

Paddy reached over and pulled her into a hug. “It’s gonna be all right, squirt. We just need to get you home where you belong.”

Skye shook her head, burrowed into her brother’s jacket, and released the torrent of grief she’d been holding at bay for the last few days.

It wasn’t going to be all right.

It was never going to be all right.

Home was in the rearview mirror, slipping farther and farther away.

She was leaving Red Hook, she was leaving Nicki, she was leaving Logan, but most of all, she was leaving her heart.

*   *   *

If there were a Biggest Loser for relationships, Logan would win hands down.

He looked around the ballroom crowded with ten-top tables and people dressed as if they were walking the red carpet instead of gathering to judge wines and give awards. Awards that could make or break a vineyard. Awards that would be heralded and talked about by wine snobs around the world.

He had nothing against wine snobs—hell, he was one. But winning all the awards in front of him wasn’t worth losing the one person who brought him love, happiness, and total fulfillment. Nothing was worth losing Skye.

A camera flash momentarily blinded him.

“Payton, give Logan a kiss for the Web site.” The blurry photographer’s voice sounded across the table. “We missed the congratulatory kiss.”

“No.” Coming here, doing his duty, wasn’t worth losing Skye. He tugged the tail of his bow tie and stood. “I’m sorry, I have a family emergency. I have to go.”

Payton pushed away from the table, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Not now,” she said through her fake cover-girl smile. “Don’t you dare embarrass me.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear through clenched teeth. “Not everything is about you. I have to go. If you don’t want to cause a scene, I suggest you say good-bye and smile.”

“I’m coming with you.” She grabbed the joke of a purse and slid the chain over her shoulder.

He couldn’t deal with this. He may have won best in show and best red, but he was the biggest loser on the face of the earth. He was whipped, weary, worried, and pissed. He should have put his foot down. Hell, he should never have come in the first place. His wines would have won whether he’d been there or not.

“Walt, I’ve got to go. Alone. Now.” God, he hoped he wasn’t too late.

Walt stood beside Payton and put his beefy hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough, Payton. Let him go.” He gave Logan an apologetic grin. “Good luck, Logan. I wish you the best. Let me know if you need anything—letters of recommendation, help with funding—anything.
You’ll always have a place at Billingsly. You have a safe trip back, keep in touch, and think about what I said, my friend.”

He reached around Payton and shook her father’s hand. “I will, and I expect you to hold up your side of the bargain.”

Walt gave him a firm shake and a nod. “You can count on it.”

Logan left the room without a backward glance and started running as soon as he hit the hall. He had his jacket off before he reached the elevator and within three minutes he had his bags and was headed to the airport. “I’ll give you an extra hundred if you get me to the terminal in a half hour.”

He made the last flight out and was in a cab at Newark by a quarter to six the next morning. He pulled up to Skye’s place just before seven and used his key to get in. Pepperoni ran out of the bedroom and did a full-body wag. “Shh, calm down. I’ll take you out in a minute.”

He put his bags down, tossed his jacket on the back of the chair, and headed toward the bedroom. He heard a huge snore. A man’s snore. “Just what the fuck is going on here?” He walked through the bedroom door, pushing it open harder than necessary so it bounced off the doorstop.

A big, naked man shot up in bed.

“Rex?”

Rex pulled the sheet over him. “Shit, Logan. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Skye, damn it. Where is she?”

“She’s gone, man. She called Friday night, said I got my job back and needed to start Tuesday. I drove straight from Florida and got in about two this morning. She left the keys on the table like she said she would. Pepperoni was having a sleepover with Nicki. I came home and fell into bed. The apartment’s spotless and the refrigerator is stocked. She even put clean sheets on the bed. Nice girl, that Skye.”

Pepperoni chased her tail at Logan’s feet, spinning crazy circles at high speeds.

He looked around the room—she’d taken everything, her clothes, her books, her warmth, even her scent. There wasn’t one sign that she’d ever stepped foot in here. Not one sign that everything they shared here, everything he’d felt, everything he dreamed and based his future on, ever existed.

All the energy drained from Logan’s body like water out of a tub, leaving him empty.

Hollow.

Alone.

Numb.

He stumbled back and sat on the chair that Skye used to use as a clothes rack and stared at Rex without seeing him. “She left? I missed her?”

“I guess. She said something about having to leave. Slater dropped Pepperoni off about an hour ago, after her morning constitutional.” Rex dragged the sheet around him and got up. “Hey, man. Are you okay? You don’t look too good. You want I should make you something to eat? You look real pale.”