Blackness Within (9 page)

“Don’t start, Kid. I can’t do anything for her and you know it. She’s got her killer dog and her brother. The dude may be a junkie, but he’ll protect his sister,” I mutter weakly, climbing to my feet.

Kid stands along with me, blocking my exit.

“Pull your head outta your ass and do it quick. Natasha needs someone smart on her side. She’s in a fucked situation. You don’t do somethin’ about it then I will. I don’t know the woman, but she took great care of me in the hospital twice and you haven’t been the same since the first time you laid eyes on her. Lie about it all you want, but I know you. I see you, Sully. I expect more from you in times like this. Grow the fuck up,” she demands before spinning away from me and stomping up the stairs.

Great. Now I’ve pissed off the one woman in this world no one wants pissed.

Instead of following the fiery redhead, I hop on the treadmill and set a challenging speed and incline. If I’m exhausted physically, my brain won’t continue to pester me. As my feet pound and my lungs constrict, all I can think about is Natasha. Not my intended goal.

The first time I saw her, it was the shape from her back to her hips that caught my eyes. She has the curves of Marilyn Monroe, a particular favorite of mine. I don’t like stick-thin women. I like soft smooth women. I like a woman with tits, ass and some meat to grab onto. I’m not into six-packs and guns. I fuck women, not dudes, and I like them to be everything that’s classically female.

I tried to date a model once. It was a painful experience. Hipbones poking me, elbows digging into me, shoulder blades jagged against my chest, it was like banging the skeleton that hung in my high school biology class. Her personality was even worse. So I kicked her to the curb like I do every other woman. I’m quite good at the “It’s not you it’s me” speech. I’ve perfected it in a way that most women feel bad for me in the end. I’m an asshole, I know.

Natasha is dangerous for me. Women don’t get under my skin. I don’t think about them once they’re out of my sight. I don’t consider their feelings other than how to make them come. I don’t worry if they’re safe unless they’re with me. And I certainly don’t run to their houses to make them stop crying. Yeah, Natasha needs to be expelled from me. I need an exorcism. Blowing a load should do just the trick.

With my newfound plan in place, I jump off the treadmill and leap up the stairs three at a time. My plan ends as soon as it begins when Finn approaches me with a haunting look on his face.

“What?” I snarl.

“Not sure yet. It’s not lookin’ good though,” Finn says, his bright blue eyes stormy.

It’s a good thing he wears his blond hair short because when he’s tense he rips his hands through it with vigor. If it were any longer, I fear he’d just yank it out.

“What’s it lookin’ like?” I grumble.

“No word on the baby. I’m still diggin’ on that front. Blake’s in with a rough crowd, O’Sullivan. Gregor Pedowski’s old crew.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Gregor Pedowski is dead. Nick Cooper, a secret government agent in the Domestic Crime Agency, saw to that personally a few years ago after the meth kingpin threatened Kid. Kid’s first case as an attorney was for a girl named Mia Rossi. Mia was beaten severely and ended up in a coma. It was believed that her father, a meth distributor for Pedowski, had beaten Mia after she witnessed him murdering her mother. Butch Rossi was convicted of those crimes and served six years of his life sentence. Unfortunately, the prosecutors got it wrong. Butch didn’t kill his wife, Kathy, or beat Mia. He was set up.

Once Butch was freed from prison, he began to get close with Kid. She has been at Mia’s side like a family member since she took her case. Butch appreciated that love and responsibility shown to his child in his absence and has created a tight bond with Kid and the rest of us because of it. He’s been out of prison a few years now and lives a clean and sober life while tending to his comatose daughter’s needs. He’s a good man that made poor choices in life and it cost him the ultimate price.

Pedowski tried to take Butch out in a drive-by shooting while Kid was present almost three years ago. We figure he was trying to cover his tracks after surely being the person that set Butch up for the murder and beating. Butch was critically injured but managed to pull through. While Kid waited in the emergency room for Butch, she received a threatening letter. That’s all it took for Cooper to decide to take that motherfucker out in style. A meth house blowing up was too decent for Pedowski, but it got the job done. Now I wish Cooper had been able to take out everyone in the meth ring.

“I’m not sure how deep Blake’s involved, but the connection is enough to know Natasha’s not safe. You want me to call KCPD?” Finn asks, concern marring his features.

He’s worried. Never a good sign.

“She doesn’t want cops involved,” I huff.

“Maybe she’s not thinkin’ clearly. If she knows what she’s lookin’ at…” he trails off, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“I’ll call her and fill her in.”

We bump fists before I climb a shitload of stairs to my wing of the house. When we first moved into Kid’s house after law school, it was perfect for us. Six bedrooms all with ensuites, huge open living spaces, a pool and pool house, over an acre of land, a basement any man would be proud to have as a man cave and the home itself is one of the only things Kid had after the death of her beloved Uncle Mick.

Then Kid fell in love and started popping out babies like they were going out of style and we needed more space. So Kellerman and Kavanagh set about expanding the house. Callaghan and I got involved and now we live in a house meant for Beverly Hills. We’ve got fifteen bedrooms, twenty-three bathrooms and enough open space to host concerts if we want. It’s a lot of house, but I now have my own little wing with three bedrooms, a sitting area and a kitchenette. When my family comes in town from Chicago, they stay here with me. Otherwise, it’s a quiet place when I need it. I rarely need it.

My door shuts with a thud as I make my way over to my bed. I flop backward onto the mattress and swipe my phone off the bedside table. I stare at the screen a long while, trying to figure out what to say. I decide to approach this like an attorney. Present the information and come up with a reasonable solution.

“Hi. You’ve reached Natasha. I’m sorry I’m not available. Please leave a message and I’ll get back with you as soon as I can,” her voice floats in my ear.

“Natasha, this is Brian O’Sullivan. Please call me as soon as you’re able,” I say in my most professional voice before disconnecting.

I shrug off the feeling of disappointment that she didn’t answer and climb into the shower. My body tenses as the cool water runs over my rigid muscles. I’ll be sore tomorrow. As I lather my skin, I consider my options further.

I can call Natasha again in an hour if I haven’t heard from her. I won’t feel like a stalker too much.

I can drive by her house and check for signs of life. I’ll feel like a bit of a stalker.

I can go to her house and wait on the street to make sure she’s safe until Finn has more information. I’ll be mostly a stalker.

I can knock on her door and sleep on the couch to be certain she’s safe. I’ll be a clinically certified stalker.

I rinse the suds away before sauntering to my mirror, naked and soaking wet. I run my hands roughly over my face before talking to my reflection.

“Get your shit together, O’Sullivan. This is just a chick. Do your job and nothing more.”

With that, I dry off, pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved black Henley thermal. I check my phone to find no response from Natasha and make my decision. That’s a lie. I made my decision when I took her call this afternoon. I’m in too deep and I can’t turn back now.

“Where are you goin’?” Kid’s voice calls out as I move through the great room toward the garage.

“Out,” I shout back without looking at her.

“That’s what I thought,” she bellows triumphantly.

I chuckle and shake my head as I pull on my leather jacket and boots. She’s always right. I love that woman even if she’s a giant pain in the dick.

Natasha

The baby is screaming while Blake shakes and sweats from withdrawals in the guest room. I’ve gotten only glimpses of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. Zeus needs a walk. I’m in desperate need of a shower. And I’m pretty certain I’m losing my mind.

If I have to wait for Blake to detox to figure out what moves to make next, I won’t make it. I need a plan. I live in a loose routine most of the time, but it’s a routine all the same. I’m so far outside my norm right now I can hardly remember what it looks like.

I fill my days with the things that make me happy. When I bought my house, it was a sad shell of the home it once was. That was good for me because it meant I could afford to buy it and fix it up on my own. But it also means I spend a lot of my time at Home Depot taking classes on tiling, flooring and a lot of other do-it-yourself skills training. I enjoy the work. When I look around my tiny bungalow, I do it with pride. I’ve improved every surface with my own hands. It’s my blood, sweat and tears in this home and I relish the accomplishment.

Blake and I grew up in apartments…a lot of apartments. My mother has never owned her own home and never will. She has a hard time getting through a one-year lease. Her biggest problem is men. She can’t stay away from them and she can’t find one that’s worth a damn. They mooch off her, beat her, emotionally abuse her, neglect her, cheat on her or just generally treat her like shit. She’s always got a sad excuse for a man in her life. Blake and I paid the price for that as kids. I would have paid much higher prices if I didn’t have my brother to keep me safe.

I learned early in life that I’m desirable to men. I have a body that’s naturally alluring. Especially to men that have little to no morals when sharing a space with a fourteen-year-old girl. So, even though I’m an adult and I’ve learned to love my curves, I still do my best to hide my body as much as my face. I’m not ashamed of how I look, but I’m not willing to put myself at unnecessary risk in order to wear a dress that hugs my body like a glove. I’m single. I live alone. My brother’s a drug addict. I choose caution, though I have my days where I hope to feel the security that will allow me to move through this world without thinking the worst in everyone…every man.

Knock, knock.

Zeus leaps to his feet at the sound. Snarling and barking his head off, causing the baby to wail louder. I trudge to the door fully expecting the police and social services to be on the other side. I can only imagine what my neighbors think is going on in my typically silent house.

I yank to door open, cradling the baby in one arm while holding Zeus’s collar with my free hand.

“Looks like you could use a hand,” Sully’s baritone hits me right in the gut.

I stare wordlessly into his chocolate eyes before his cocky Cheshire grin creeps across his lips, distracting my gaze. He’s too hot to form normal thoughts around. Trouble.

“Can you take Zeus on a walk? He’s dying to go out and I don’t have a stroller. If I wasn’t in such a panic when I went to Walmart, I would’ve remembered a stroller is a good thing to have around a baby. I should’ve remembered that—”

“Natasha,” his calm tone stops me in my rambling tracks. “I’ll take him for a walk. If you have a snowsuit for Junior, I’ll carry him while we walk. It might be good to get him outta the house for a few minutes.”

“Junior?” I ask, confused at…every damn thing going on right now.

“Gotta give the baby a name. Junior seems like a good choice for now,” he responds through a slight smirk.

“I’m sorry. My brain’s not functioning. You wanna come in?”

I push the door open to offer Sully passage. Zeus left my side as soon as he saw Sully was at the door. I’ve never seen my dog so comfortable with a stranger this quickly. Definitely a sign of trouble. Dogs can smell their own.

All thoughts of dogs leave my mind as soon as Sully breezes past me, enveloping me in his intoxicating scent. It’s a woodsy, musky, manly fragrance that I can’t quite place other than I love that it’s still lingering on me after he held me earlier.

“Shit,” I mutter as I shut the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a furrowed brow, peering at me while he peels his jacket off exposing his ripped frame beneath a tight black waffle shirt.

Nice, I’m now talking to myself in front of strangers while I stare like an idiot. I told you I was losing my mind.

“Nothing.”

Sully studies me for a breath before returning to that relaxed swagger he always exudes.

“I have a fleece suit for the…uh…Junior and a baby carrier. You sure you can manage on your own?”

I move toward Sully in the living room, bouncing Junior as I go. He’s starting to quiet, but I feel like he’s just gearing up for another screaming session. My guess is he can feel how stressed I am. Babies can sense emotions better than anyone and it affects them greatly. Taking care of babies is my career and I’m sucking at it right now.

“Don’t do that,” Sully chides me, scooping Junior from my arms.