Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) (17 page)

“If the weather was nice, it meant the men would be outside. Them being out of their apartments meant a chance of stupidity in the form of fights.” She yawned, eyes closing as she hid her mouth behind one delicate hand. “Fights meant guns. Bullets don’t care where they go. You point a gun, the bullet leaves it in a rush, and finds whatever target is in front of it.” She changed position again, moving to her back, heels to the bed, tucked up against her ass.

“So we slept below the line of fire. Drug dealers, pimps and whores, fights, murders—we saw it all. I kept my head down, didn’t make waves, tried to be invisible as much as I could.” She yawned again, relaxing even as Benny grew more tense with every word. He had no idea what her life was like before he met her, hadn’t asked even though he knew about her dad. “I escaped as often as I could, which wasn’t enough. Went through a wild-child phase.” Blinking slowly, she continued, “Rafe had the worst of it, since if
Papa
was gone, he had to put up with me.” Glancing at him, a brief smile curled her lips. “I’m a bossy one.”

“Nah, you’re just right most of the time. The boys hate that. Lucia’s righteous rightness.” He pushed away from the door, taking the four steps to bring him to the edge of the bed. Squatting next to her, he lifted a hand and brushed strands of hair back off her face, threading the silk between his fingers. “You communicate forcefully.” Cupping her cheek in his palm, he felt her skin heating under his hands and saw the darkening of a blush coloring her skin. “Beautiful orator, you could be a senator or something. You don’t argue. You convince people of your ideas. Be anything you want to be.”

“I’m tired.” Her eyes didn’t blink, didn’t waver as she gazed at him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Benny. I don’t want to think about the past, don’t want to think about tonight. Don’t want to think about what we nearly lost, the boys and me.”

“I’ll stay, honey.” An immediate response held his hopes she would know he wanted to be here for her. “Of course. I’m here.” He wanted to reassure but wasn’t certain how to say what he was thinking. “If I can hold you.” Thumb brushing across her bottom lip, he stayed locked on her eyes.
Danger
. “Help to make it better. I’m here.”

This was a bone of contention between them. As their friendship had developed, so had the attraction, grown stronger every day. He wanted her,
God yes
, but wanted to take it slowly. For her. For him. Because Doc told him not to start something. Because she’d already seen him fail.

So he took it slowly. So slowly it was killing him, and Benny had to work hard at ignoring the signs she kept tossing his way, shouting she wanted things to go faster. He'd kissed her until they'd been both gasping, teetering on the edge of losing control before reeling himself back. In an embrace, he'd found his hand sliding up her side of its own accord, thumb grazing across the bottom curve of her lush breast, heard the hitch in her breath when she'd felt that touch, knowing she’d give him that when he was inside her for the first time. Wanting her with every breath he took…denying himself, denying her.

On a late night call, in a whisper she’d admitted she wasn’t a virgin, something he hadn’t been certain about. Shyly, as she did often, she asked in a mix of broken English and Spanish if he could still want her. Benny’d spent the next hour soothing and convincing her that not only did he still want her, he wanted to be something important in her life, wanted to be someone she needed.

The next time they'd been alone in her room, he'd taken things farther, touching her intimately for the first time. He'd worked up to it, starting with sweet kisses, nipping at her plump lips, drawing the crimson to the surface. Hand to the inside of her knee, he'd lifted, bringing her thigh up to press against his rock-hard cock, slipping his palm to cover her, he'd eaten her gasp down with a rough, demanding kiss.

She’d opened for him beautifully, moaned into his mouth as he'd worked his hand, bringing her to orgasm. Felt like a king as he cradled her afterwards, ignoring his too eager cock, losing himself in the whispering sighs she'd given him.

God, he wanted her, wanted to be between her legs, wanted to work her over with his mouth, taking everything she had to give. But he’d never felt like this about a woman before. Not Benita, maybe especially not Benita. He could finally see how fucked–up that relationship was from the beginning.

Lucia was…different, special, and he wanted her to know how exceptional she was, wanted her to understand what she meant to him. More than a way to get off, so much more than that. From the first time he saw her, he knew she was special, meant something, and every glimpse and interaction since firmly reinforced the knowledge.

Over dinners with her family, he’d watched as she effortlessly managed the tempers and needs of her brothers, helping balance everything Eddie and Bear did for the boys. She took on anything asked of her with a smile and happy heart, glad when she could make a difference. Happy when she was needed.
That’s what I have to do
, he realized,
make sure she knows how much I need her
. More than just someone to have sex with, so much more. Instead, she might hold the key to the rest of his life.

“Lucia,” his voice was soft when he called her name. “I want…” He trailed off. There were no words for the want coursing through him when she looked at him like that. As if he were the most important thing in her world. “Get ready for bed, honey.” Pushing to his feet, he stood, looking down at her. “I’ll be here.”

***

Lying in bed beside her, comforting her…torturing himself, he lifted the arm not curled around her waist so he could push his fingers through her hair. Sliding like silk across his skin, he smiled at the ceiling, knowing the darkness masked his expression. She fit him perfectly. Curved into him as she was, even with the covers between them, she had crowded as close as she could. Soft breasts pressed firmly against his side, covers tugged up, she had one leg on the outside, knee resting across his thigh. Her arm firmly tucked around his belly, head resting on his chest, Luce was still, but her light, even breathing told him she wasn’t sleeping.

“Gypsy asked me to play Marie’s.” He took a breath, feeling his stomach dip and sway at the thought of taking the stage again. There, of all places. “I’m thinking about it.” Luce knew his fears, knew nearly everything that had happened to him since he got to Fort Wayne. Even knew some of the family drama that happened in Enoch, and then various parts of his years with the band. Not everything.
Hell, no.
He couldn’t burden her with shit that horrendous. Shit like his life had been.

“You should do it, Benjamin.” Her breath gusted across his skin. With thoughts about having her hands on him, he’d shucked the shirt before lying down. But, in what he now knew was a wise move, knowing the temptation she would present, he’d kept his jeans on and was lying on top of the comforter. Double barrier to paradise, and even now she was all he could think about. “I bet if you get the first show out of the way—
boom
—you’ll be right back to where you were.”

Not a chance of that happening. Losing their manager and two key members left the band down not only in numbers, but talent. Chase was learning fast. He was determined to master the guitar, and in playing with him, Benny had found he could carry a pleasing harmony. When Benny had mentioned performing, however, the kid had looked sick to his stomach even more than Benny felt.
Fine group we’d make, puke buckets to either side of the stage for the nervy musicians
.

“We’ve lost nearly everything.” Radio airtime, online rankings, fan base—all the work it took to keep a band in front of the public eye—gone. They’d be starting from scratch when they relaunched. Vic had never toured with them. Meant he was an unknown as far as their fans went. He was good and so charismatic he’d win them over, but an unknown for now. Mitty would be back; Benny had faith, but he wasn’t core. Not like Danny had been. Danny and Benny had always been the public face of the band.
Now just me
.

“No, you haven’t.” She sounded so certain of herself he couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping. She didn’t know, not really. “Benny, stop it. You haven’t lost anything.” Lifting her head, she stared at him, and even in the dark he could tell her eyes were fixed on his face. She raised the hand tucked around his side, bringing her palm up to place it over the center of his chest. Patting softly, she said, “The music is in here. You haven’t lost that.”

A flash of white teeth signaled a smile pointed his direction. Raising his hand, he pushed his fingers through her hair again. Pure silk.

“I’ve heard you when you don’t think anyone’s listening. Might be my favorite thing to do. I lurk.” Her head tilted to one side. “Did you know?” He shook his head; a movement she must have been able to see because that flash of teeth came again. “I’ll sidle into the hallway by your apartment, drop to my butt, and sit there. Just listening because, when you think you’re alone, when you don’t realize there’s an audience, you let things go, and
Jesucristo
, Benny,” she took a breath, pressing deeper into him, “what you do then is amazing. If you give an audience half of what you have inside you, you’re going to win back every foot of progress you lost by getting sidetracked like this.” He watched her head dip, but even with that warning wasn’t prepared for what she did next.

Lucia’s hair draped around her face as, lips to his chest, she brushed her way across side-to-side, then the tip of her tongue traced around his nipple, teeth nibbling gently. He was hard in an instant, imagining her lips on him in other places. Her heated breath rushed across his skin, and he opened his mouth, preparing to say something, but before he could find his voice, she had retreated, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder, curving into him again. “You’re amazing, Benny. Never doubt it.”

Wordlessly, he stroked her shoulder, down her back. Soothing himself as much as her, he lay awake long after she finally found sleep. Turning her words over in his head, he felt the beginnings of a plan. He had to earn her belief in him.
Marie’s
.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ben? What the fuck?” The frustrated shout woke him, and Benny lifted his head, looking with bleary eyes towards the stairs.
Shit
.

The pounding in his head was sickeningly familiar. So was the sight greeting him. A disappointed face. Andy’s. “Shit.” He muttered this, but his voice was loud enough for Andy to catch it.

“Yes, shit. Shit again. Mighta shit on yourself, from the smell of it.” Andy—
Slate
, he tried to remind himself to call his brother Slate.
He likes that
. “What the fuck did you do last night?”

He’d played. Gotten onstage and played, pushing through the terror-driven shakes threatening to derail the performance even before they’d started. Bear and Chase took the stage with him—Bear’s presence promising to help make it easy, Chase’s making it better because Benny was able to focus on giving the kid his own brand of reassurances. Lucia in the audience, front and center, sitting at a table near the stage so he could see her every time he looked up from his hands. Belief and love so clear on her face he nearly froze at first, from the full knowledge of what she was giving him.

While Bear had been recovering at home, they hadn’t been able to take much time for themselves. Quick lunches in the family kitchen instead of leisurely dinners out, stolen moments on the phone. With Luce out of the picture a lot of the time, he’d dialed in on Chase, working with the boy every day, bringing him along faster than he’d believed possible. Vic and Chase formed the other two legs of his musical tripod at the moment, and he let them balance him as often as they could all be in the same room. So they played, and the music flowed from his fingers, if not his head. Lyrics were still a scarce commodity, but when they did come, they were good. The kind of curl-your-toes, make-you-shiver, raise-the-hair good.

Last night had been good, too. The last half of the set was rocking, the bar filled to capacity in a party for DeeDee’s man, Jase. A music lover, if not a musician, Jase had sat in with them one night at Bear’s place. Proving while he could carry a tune, he couldn’t be trusted with an instrument, he had broken four strings on one of Bear’s guitars before the guys could wrestle it away from him.

The gig had been so good, Benny let it go to his head. Thinking to himself,
If I can get back on stage, then I can handle anything. Right?

Wrong. So fucking wrong.

After they finished playing, he was only three swallows into the first beer and had already been thinking how he could get another without anyone seeing. Three beers and he was in the alley out behind the bar with a different gang of bikers passing a joint around, accepting the jug of moonshine when it made it to him, hooking a finger through the handle and lifting it to his lips as if he did it every day. Laughing men loaded him into a van with shouts of a party, and vaguely he remembered seeing Lucia standing on the walk in front of the bar as they drove past, looking side-to-side. Another bar, another back alley. Another drunken night ending in a blackout.

Now was now, and he was on his brother’s couch with no memory of getting there. Focusing on the floor, he found the remains of the night in the form of a single empty bottle on the floor next to the couch.
If he doesn’t know how bad it was, maybe I can bullshit him
.

“What?” Quiet, so he didn’t wake the babies, he flipped over on the couch, pretending the movement didn’t set his stomach churning. “I’m up. Was there something you needed?”

Standing close, so close Benny could see every detail of the seam stitching on his jeans, Slate glared down at him. For several long minutes, he bore the weight of that stare, and then Slate shook his head. His brother’s eyes slowly closed, and Benny watched as Slate made a visible effort to get himself under control. Voice vibrating with anger, Slate hissed, “You fucked up.”

“I slipped.” No chance of lying now, not if his brother already knew. “That’s all. Just a slip.”

“Fucked.” Slate leaned down, shoving his scowling face into Benny’s. “Up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it.” Slate whirled, hands to the air, fending off something Benny couldn’t see. “You.” His voice rose to a shout. “
Fucked up
.”

On cue, the cry of a baby trailed down the stairs, and Slate turned to look that direction, the expression on his face so torn it twisted something sideways in Benny. For a moment, it felt like things were unbalanced, on the cusp of something huge, and then slowly Slate turned to look at him. Eyes bleak, he said, “I got kids, brother.”

Benny nodded, shoving to a seated position on the couch. “I know you do.”

“Want them to have an uncle they can love.” Benny knew Slate saw the flinch his words caused, watched as matching pain moved through his brother’s face. “Want them to have a family who loves them.”

“I love them. You know I do.”
How do I make this right?

“Love the booze more.” Slate looked down, hand to the back of his neck, fingers kneading and rubbing. “You need more than I can give you, Benny.” His words came slowly, seeming forced out. “Time to go back to Phoenix.”

“No, Andy.” Benny was near tears, hating the disappointment in his brother’s voice, wishing he could turn back the clock to before he got in that van, took the first drink, climbed the stairs to that goddamned fucking stage. “Please, God. I can do better. I will. I promise. It was just a slip.” In his head he heard Chase’s words from the darkness around a bonfire,
“Right to the mother. Fuckin’. Curb. Muthafuckin’ curb.”

“You slip then you use whatever you need in order to get your feet under you again so you can stand strong. Rehab is a tool. You need to work it.” One hand shoved deep into his pocket, Andy pulled out his phone and placed three calls.

Two hours later, Benny was on a plane. Seated on the aisle next to him, boxing him in, his silent escort, was none other than Davis
fucking
Mason.
Jesus
.