Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (30 page)

“Meet who?” Ressa asked, frowning.

The door opened and Clayton came tumbling out—he was walking backward and he had both hands wrapped around the much larger hand of somebody else—a somebody else who
wasn’t
Trey. Or his twin.

“Come on. I want you to meet my best friend.”

“Okay, okay . . .” The man’s voice was smooth, easy, and he laughed as Clayton dragged him along. He wasn’t exactly fighting.

“Come
on
!” Clayton said again.

Guess he wasn’t moving fast enough for the boy, Ressa mused.

“Is that who you wanted Granny to meet?” she asked, looking down at her cousin.

But Neeci had gone still, almost frozen.

“Clayton, did you finish your . . . ? Ressa.”

She looked past Clayton and his hostage to see Trey standing in the door. Swallowing, she opened her mouth and a dozen things leaped into her mind.
I’m sorry. I take it back. Can we have a do-over?

But all she said was, “Morning, Trey. Thanks for . . . helping out.” It was lame and stupid and everything she didn’t need to say.

“No problem.” He just nodded shortly at her and then shifted his attention to Neeci, a warm easy smile on his face. “Hey, sweetie. You had breakfast yet?”

Neeci just stood there. Still frozen.

“Baby, what is wrong with you?”

“Neeci! Say hi to my Uncle Sebastian!”

Ohhhhh
 . . .

Shifting her attention to the man with a hat pulled down low over his face, she studied him—or what she could see. Wow.

He smiled at her. “Hello.” That voice—it was rich, sinful, like liquid chocolate and rich wine, an audible stroke over bare skin. And something told her the user knew very well the power behind that voice.

That hat, too, tugged down as low as it was, didn’t do a damn thing to hide the sheer male beauty of his face.

“I’ll be damned,” she murmured. “Sebastian Barnes.”

“He’s my uncle!” Clayton said, grinning with delight and obvious pride.

Amused affection flooding her heart, she looked at Clayton. “So I’ve heard.” Then, because she had to say it, she said, “I miss seeing you, Clay.”

The smile faded a little, but only for a minute, because he beamed at her. “Then you should stay and play with us. We’re swimming. All day. Except Uncle Travis. He says he’s still sick.”

“I’d love to, baby, but I’ve got something I have to take care of.” Because she couldn’t stand the way his smile faded again, she bent down and murmured to Neeci, “You should say hi.”

Neeci gave her a wide-eyed stare.

Then she looked at the man who’d moved a few feet closer.

“But . . . but . . .”

“Hi there.”

Sebastian crouched a short distance away, studying Neeci with solemn eyes. “I’m trying to decide if I should be jealous.”

Neeci blinked at him.

Sebastian heaved out a heavy, forlorn sigh and he looked for all the world like somebody had stolen the stars from his sky. Then he slid Neeci a sad look. “Clay’s been my best buddy since he was born, but now he tells me he’s got a new best friend.”

Neeci licked her lips. “He . . . you . . . I . . .”

“Stop it, Uncle Sebastian,” Clayton said, shoving at his uncle as he wedged his smaller body between them all. With a very serious expression, he said, “I’ve got grown-up best friends and you’re one of them, but I need a kid best friend and that’s Neeci.”

“Well.” Sebastian frowned and then nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” Then he held out his hand.

Ressa found herself charmed by him, the way he waited until Neeci slid her hand nervously into his, and apparently she wasn’t the only one, because a slow, shy smile bloomed across her cousin’s face in the next moment. “You’re in movies.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Yeah, well, I can’t write books like Clayton’s dad. Seemed to make sense.”

Since Neeci was relaxing, Ressa straightened. Her heart lurched up in her throat as she found herself staring straight into Trey’s eyes. He’d moved closer, without her realizing it. So close she could reach out and touched him, if she just took a step or two.

And she did.

But not to touch him.

Heart slamming, she watched him. Watched him watching her, but instead of the heat or the humor or the hunger she was so used to seeing, there was . . . nothing. A curious blankness like he was trying to hide everything he felt.

“Can we talk sometime? Sometime soon?” she blurted out. Her voice hitched. She couldn’t do this anymore. Her aunt was right. If they could make it work, then damn it, she wanted it to work. “I . . . I messed up. I just . . .”

Her words trailed off as she felt a number of gazes swing her way.

And then, Trey’s hand closed around hers and she was being pulled away from the front yard. “I have to leave,” she said, resenting the fact that she
did
have to go. “My cousin—”

“I get that. Two minutes,” Trey said, letting go of her wrist as soon as they rounded the corner of his house, mostly hidden from the front, thanks to the landscaping.

The scent of honeysuckle mixed with roses flooded her head as she sucked in a breath.

Two minutes
.

She met his eyes. “I miss you,” she said and the words came out easier than she would have thought possible. “And I can’t do this. I messed up. Please . . . can we talk?”

His lashes swept down and for a moment that stretched into eternity, she felt her world crash to a halt. “Trey, please . . .” She moved closer, reaching for him, not caring in that moment if she sounded desperate—she
was
.

He caught her wrist.

She sucked in a breath.

Was it too—

And then she
couldn’t
breathe.

His mouth took hers in a kiss that all but stopped her heart. His free hand came up, touched her cheek. It was a gentle touch, so at odds with the way his mouth devoured hers, his tongue pushing inside in a bold, demanding claim.

Her knees shook. Her heart rolled over. And she was about ready to wrap herself around him and beg the world to go away—for thirty minutes, or even ten—all from that one deep, devastating kiss.

They barely touched, save for that hot, hungry kiss—his hand on her cheek, the other gripping her wrist.

A growl sounded in his chest when she caught his tongue and sucked on him and then he tore away. Now, he caught her close, one hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. “
I missed you
doesn’t cover what I felt,” he whispered against her neck.

Then he moved away and she swallowed, her blood humming, her heart racing.

And damn him, his voice was just as cool as could be when he spoke again. “When did you have in mind?”

“I . . .” She had to clear her throat. She should also change her damn panties, she thought wryly, but that wasn’t an option right now. “I don’t know.”

She blew out a breath and looked away. “I don’t know where my head will be tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be pissed . . . or what . . . after I talk to Kiara.”

“Why do you think you’re going to be pissed off?”

“Because I know my cousin.” She shrugged. “I love her, but manipulation is just what she does.”

A warm hand touched her cheek and she looked up. “Are you okay?”

“I can handle it.” She covered his hand with hers. “I’m used to this. Whatever happens, though . . . I need to talk with you. I
can’t
handle what’s going on with us . . . well, that’s bullshit.”

A line appeared between his brows and she turned her face into his hand, kissed him. “I can . . . I just don’t want to. Being without you makes me miserable, Trey.”

Something moved through his eyes, dark, fleeting, gone so fast. Then he cupped her face in both hands and brushed a quick, soft kiss against her lips, both eyes, her brow. “We’ll
talk. We have what matters, Ressa . . . everything else is just smoke.”

Then he moved back. “You need to go.” He took her elbow and escorted her around the house. Both of the kids had cornered Sebastian—and Travis, it appeared—on the porch, jabbering a mile a minute. Neeci had relaxed pretty fast.

Trey let go but before he moved away, he stroked a hand down her back. “I hope today goes okay.”

A lump lodged itself in her throat. “Thanks.”

She lingered only long enough to give Neeci a quick hug and then she left.

None of this was going to be any easier by taking her time.

“I’m getting out soon.”

Ressa studied Kiara’s face across the table.

So far, the visit had gone pretty much the way they normally did.

Why didn’t you bring Neeci?

Does she still remember me?

What have you told her about me?

Can you bring her next week?

That had taken up a good thirty minutes.

Now they were moving on to why Kiara wanted them there.

Ressa managed, almost, not to react. She glanced over at her aunt and then said, “I know you’re up for parole. How come you’re so certain you’ll get out this time?”

“I’ve served four years. I was sentenced to seven. I know how this works.” She leaned in, elbows braced on the table. A dark blue cloth wrapped around her braids, holding them back from her face. She’d slimmed down, almost too much, and her slim arms were roped with muscle. “I haven’t caused any trouble and I’ve been taking college courses since I got in. They aren’t going to keep trying to hold me in here—they’re all but looking for reasons to let people out right now.”

She shrugged, flicking her fingers like it was a done deal.

It might well be. Overcrowded prisons was nothing new. “Okay. Assuming you’re right, what do you plan to do?”

“I’m taking Neeci back.”

“No.” Ressa folded her arms over her chest and met her cousin’s dark, flat gaze dead on. “You signed away parental rights almost five years ago. She barely knows you. You can’t provide for her the way I can. You can’t give her a stable life.”

Ressa didn’t want to think about the shape Kiara had been in by the time everything imploded in her cousin’s life. It hadn’t been pretty. Ressa had been the one to focus, calm down, and get a grip on life, while Kiara lived for the next big deal, the next big score . . . the next big anything.

It was the next big
anything
that had landed her here.

“You already had one chance to prove you could straighten up,” she said softly. “You couldn’t do it. That’s why you’re here now. You can’t take care of her.
I
can.”

“
I
am her mother,” Kiara said, her voice harsh.

“Only by blood.” Ressa felt her chest constrict. Panic tried to take over. She wasn’t giving Neeci up—it wasn’t just love that drove her now, although that was a huge part of it. She looked at her cousin and saw a pit of chaos. Worse, she saw
herself
—she saw Neeci growing up the way
she
had, never having any stability or normalcy or even a parent who just
loved
.

How often had Neeci cried herself to sleep just after
visiting
her mother? Those short visits had done more harm than good and not because of the environment, but because Kiara couldn’t stop playing head games, not even with her child.

No
.

“I am the one who raised her,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “I am the one who held her through every nightmare, nursed her through every cold. I’m the one who has answered all the hard questions and listened to all the crying.
I
am her mother in every way that counts, Kiara. You getting out of here doesn’t mean you’re entitled to jerk her around the same way you’ve done with everybody else.”

“You selfish bitch,” Kiara whispered. For a moment, it almost seemed that tears glittered, but then Kiara blinked and her eyes were just hard and cold once more. “She’s my baby and I have a right to raise her.”

“And
how
are you going to do that?” Ressa demanded. “You have never held a stable job in your life. You have
no
training. You don’t even
like
to work—your idea of working is blackmailing lonely old men out of money or swiping credit cards from some of your johns!”

“Ressa,” Angeline said, her voice firm.

“No.” Ressa shot her aunt a look. “I’m not listening to this. I’m—”

“Mama.” Kiara started to sob, laying her head on the table. “How can you let her talk to me like this? Talk to her. Please. Ress will listen to you. She always did. Tell her how much I need my baby. I can’t face life outside this place without her . . .”

“What about what Neeci needs!” The words ripped out of her and Ressa didn’t realize how loud she’d been until an odd silence rippled through the room, other inmates and their visitors going quiet as they turned to look at Ressa.

Conversation resumed after a few seconds and Ressa had to force herself to take a deep breath before she spoke again. “What about what Neeci needs, Kiara? A mother who will
be
there for her? They let you out on parole and
what
did you do but go right back to the same old thing?”

“I had a child to feed!” Kiara glared at her.

“The money Bruce gave you every year was more than
I
made in two.” Ressa fisted her hands, staring at her cousin with so much rage, so much confusion. “You got a ridiculous amount of money every single
year
—”

“I should have had it all!” Kiara shouted.

The venom on her cousin’s face, in her voice left Ressa shaken. Still, she shook her head. “But that’s not the point. That was plenty of money to take care of a baby, Kiara. And you blew it on drugs . . . while your baby went hungry.”

Kiara flinched. Then she sagged. “You . . . guys, you don’t understand. I miss her. I
love
my little girl. I need her, okay? Mama, Ress, please . . .”

If Kiara had been looking at Angeline, then she might have realized she’d messed up.

As it was, it took several moments of awkward silence before she turned her head to look at the mostly silent Angeline.

When she finally did, Angeline just shook her head.

“Mama.” She swallowed. “Please. Y’all don’t understand—”

“I’m afraid you don’t,” Angeline said, shaking her head before Kiara could get anything else out. “You sit there and you cry about how
you
need that child. But it’s not about
you
. It
can’t
be about you. It’s about
her
. It has to be
about
her and what she needs. She’s not even six years old. Do you even have a
clue
how to take care of that little girl?”

Kiara stared at Angeline and then turned her head, looked at Ressa. With cool calculation, she reached up and swiped at the tears. “I can figure it out. You just need to get ready. My parole meeting is coming up and I
will
get out. And soon. Once I do, I want my daughter. You really want to fight me over this? You want to be the one telling her that she can’t be with her mama?”

“Don’t push this,” Ressa said, rising from her chair. She looked at her aunt and Angeline rose. Shifting her gaze back to Kiara, she shook her head. “You signed your rights away. You might be getting out, but you aren’t
capable
of giving that child the life she deserves, the life she
needs
. You’re telling me not to push it, but you are the one who needs to be careful.”

Kiara opened her mouth to argue, anger brimming in her eyes.

“What are you going to do, Kiara? When she asks? And she will. What are you going to do when she asks you why you went to jail? And this is going to follow you for the rest of your life.”

She turned then, and headed to the door. “I’ll be calling my lawyer. I suggest you be ready. I can give Neeci a real life, Kiara. You need to think about that, too.”

“You just want her cuz she’s
mine
!” Kiara shouted.

“No.” At the door, she paused.

Mama Ang still lingered there, staring at her daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Angeline said softly.

“Then don’t let her do this,” Kiara said, her voice pleading.

“Oh, baby. That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” Her mother sighed and shook her head. “I tried. I tried so hard to be a good mother to you and I still didn’t do it right. I failed you somewhere. Neeci, though . . . I can still help her. If you can’t be the kind of parent she
needs
you to be, baby . . .”

Mama Ang shook her head and turned, walking to the door.

Kiara stared at them both.

“I love her,” Ressa said softly. “But if I thought you could actually take care of her and give her a happy life, I’d give her up. I love her that much. But you
can’t
, Kiara. You can’t even make yourself happy. You can’t even take
care
of yourself. How can you take care of a child? That’s why I won’t let this happen. It’s because I love her that I’ll fight.”

She cocked a brow. “Now here’s the real question. Do
you
really love her? Because I think you know which one of us can really give her a life . . . a chance.”

*   *   *

There was a time in his life when he had been around more noise, but Trey couldn’t say when.

It was almost seven o’clock, and when Sebastian managed to talk the two kids into a movie marathon, Trey could have hugged him.

He doubted there would be much of a marathon, but still, as silence fell over the house, he retreated to the front porch and collapsed on one of the rockers. He thought he may have felt this tired before.

Once.

At some point in his life.

He just didn’t know when.

When Travis came out and sat down next to him, putting down a bottle of beer, he ignored it for the first ten minutes. Finally, he reached over and took it.

“I don’t really want this,” he said as he twisted off the cap.

“Then don’t drink it.” Travis shrugged.

He put the bottle to his lips, caught a hint of the smell, and took a sip anyway.

“I hate to say this, but those two kids have kicked my ass,” he said.

“You did better than I did. I hid in my room half the day.”

“I noticed.” Trey curled his lip. “Chickenshit.”

“Absolutely.” Travis drained half his beer and then sighed in satisfaction. “So. How much longer . . .”

The words trailed off as the sound of a throaty engine came rolling down the street. It had them both looking up. The fatigue drained out of Trey and he almost lurched up out of his seat, had to fight the urge to leap over the railing.

Ressa, and that sexy Mustang of hers.

“Trey, you practically have a hook in your mouth—I can almost see you flopping around,” Travis said, his voice wry. “It’s a good look for you, man.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. Ressa parked the car. A moment later, she climbed out and her aunt slid out a moment later.

It was the appearance of her aunt that kept him from rushing her.

That was it.

He couldn’t care less that his brother was standing there, snickering over his beer.

But the slender, smaller woman had him freezing on the steps.

The resemblance was there. They had the same eyes, Ressa and this small, diminutive woman.

As she approached, her gaze held his and there was an appraising study there. He wasn’t entirely sure how he held up, and he realized his hands were sweating.

Ressa came up the steps and stopped next to him.

“Hey.”

He glanced away from her aunt. “Ah . . . hey. Hi.”

She frowned and then glanced over her shoulder to her aunt. “Mama Ang, stop.” She looked back at him. “She’s got that
mom look
down to an art.”

“I should.” Her aunt smiled now. “So . . . you’re the boy who has my girl all flustered.”

Trey opened his mouth, closed it, then glanced at Ressa. He wasn’t at all certain how to answer that. Finally, he said, “Well, she’s had the same effect on me, so I figure it’s only fair.”

Amusement flashed through the older woman’s eyes. Then she held out her hand. “I’m Angeline MacAllister. I’m also a huge fan of yours, Mr. Barnes, although I can’t say I ever expected to meet you . . . and especially not like this.”

“A pleasure.” He shook her hand. He wasn’t sure what else he could say.

She looked away from him and focused on Travis. Her gaze narrowed slightly and then she shook her head. “I bet you boys kept your mother busy.”

“No, ma’am,” Travis said, straight-faced. “We were too busy focusing on school.”

Angeline snorted. “I just bet you were. Now . . . I think I’d like to take my grandbaby out for ice cream. Ressa, I imagine you can find your way home . . . can’t you?”

*   *   *

Way to throw me under the bus, Mama Ang.

Nearly thirty minutes later, she stood on the porch, watching as Neeci climbed into the car with her grandmother. She’d gone somewhat reluctantly, but then as Mama Ang swept her down the steps, she’d said the magic words . . .
ice cream
and Neeci had all but dragged her granny to the car.

Now, while Clayton clung despondently to his uncle, Ressa rested her hands on the railing and stared off at the car as it backed out of the drive.

“I wish Neeci could stay here,” Clayton said, his voice sullen. “Forever and ever. Nobody is as much as fun as she is.”

Ressa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing while both Sebastian and Travis gave the boy affronted looks. Sebastian took his hat off and put it on Clayton’s head, tugging it down until the bill completely covered Clayton’s face. “I’ll tell you what, boy . . . I’m every bit as fun as a girl,” he said, turning back toward the house.