Seduced by Innocence (2 page)

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

— William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

I'D ALWAYS BEEN
most comfortable at night. The cloak of darkness allowed me to hide my sins, or flaunt them, depending on the company.

Tonight was a little bit of both.

The leggy waitress sauntered over to the pool table that I'd rented for the night. Lose a few games and everyone wants to show you how it's done. That's when I pull out my A game to cover my expenses for a few more days.

Living from cheap hotels and traveling the country on a motorcycle wasn't everyone's idea of a good time, but it kept me busy and kept me in the company of beautiful women. How could I complain?

She handed me a tall glass full of amber liquid and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at my choice of a non-alcoholic beverage while everyone else worked at getting sloshed.

"It's all about illusion. People see what they want to see. Right now, they see a cocky prick who drinks too much and bets too much on half-assed games of pool. It's how I keep my edge." Of course, bragging about this didn't exactly work with my stay-under-the-radar plans, but even I enjoyed the admiring glance of a woman who respected my techniques.

"You're like that detective, in those old television shows. Columbo, I think. Acts dumb but is really super smart and always, like, gets the bad guy in the end." She twirled a strand of long blond hair and chewed on her lower lip as she talked.

When she bent over to pick up an empty glass from the table, her cleavage spilled out of her tight blouse, giving me an eye full and making things uncomfortable in my jeans.

She slipped me a piece of paper with a phone number on it and winked. "You have really pretty eyes. They're, like, blue with sunlight in them. Like a cat."

Wrong species. "Thanks, they
are
a bit unusual."

"I think they're cool." She leaned in closer. "I get off at closing. Want to give me a ride home?"

"If I'm still around, yes." The most honest answer I could give.

The light of desire dimmed in her eyes a bit, but she smiled and walked away, swinging her hips to the music.

I adjusted my jeans and focused on the game. Daryl, the big guy who'd challenged me, had won the last three games and had bought drinks for his buddies to celebrate. This final game was all or nothing, and for him, it would be nothing. He just didn't know it yet.

It only took me one turn to sink the eight ball and win the game. I put my leather coat on, then reached for the money, well over three hundred dollars, and pulled back just in time to avoid a broken hand as he slammed his pool stick against the table.

"You fucking cheat. Yer a shark." The jowls of his chin vibrated with his rage, and his beady eyes squinted like a rat. "You 'aint getting none of my money, or yours."

It was for moments like these, rare though they were, that my drinks were always alcohol-free.

I relaxed my body and assessed the room around me. Two exits, one in front and one in back. I could get through the back door easily enough and hop on my bike. Daryl had two friends at least as big as him, but their collective mass had more to do with their daily beer intake than any gym memberships.

I could take them, if I had to. But better not to fight, especially in the bar. If the cops showed up before I could extricate myself, it would create a whole new pain in the ass I didn't want to deal with.

I reached for my money again, and he lunged at me. Anticipating his move, I shoved the money in my back pocket as I twisted to the side, then used his weight against him to knock him on his ass.

He hadn't been hurt, so his buddies didn't know whether to fight me or help him up. Most people, even oversized idiots, didn't want trouble with the police.

Hands in the air, I gave my surrender. "Look, I just got lucky on that last one, but I won fair and square." I backed up toward the door, ready to bolt if he or his friends came after me.

Daryl slapped his friend's hand away and used the pool table to help himself stand. "Give me back my money, or I'll rip yer face off and take it back myself."

I shot a mournful glance at the hot waitress, who realized that I wouldn't be sticking around for closing, then darted out the door to my bike.

Daryl and his friends had no chance to catch up to me, which was for the best, since I really didn't want to be responsible for taking his money
and
sending him to the hospital all in one night.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Very few people had this number, and those that did weren't likely to use it at this time of night… unless….

My hotel in Portland, Oregon was close enough that it made more sense to go straight there than try to find someplace safe to pull over. Not to mention it was freezing outside. Ten minutes later I had settled into my hotel room and checked the messages on my phone.

Five calls, and all from the last person on earth I wanted to speak to.

I selected the last incoming call and pressed the green call button on my phone. The first ring cut off as a familiar voice answered.

"Son, is that you?"

I sat on the cardboard-like bed and pulled off my boots. "Yeah, Dad, it's me. What's up? Is Mom okay?"

"She's fine. But, Dean…. " His voice trailed off as if he didn't know how to say what he had to say next. Except my dad always knew what to say.

"Dad, what happened? Is Dean okay?" Real fear gripped my chest. I hadn't seen my younger brother since I left home two years ago, but we still talked every chance we got. I may have been a shitty brother, but I loved him.

"There's been an accident, son. You need to come home. Dean's in trouble."

It took four hours to get home, and I thanked the gods that be that I hadn't been back East or in the Midwest when the call came in. Pulling onto the vast estates that my parents owned, I imagined what they would think when they saw me.

It had been two years, and I'd changed a lot. I also smelled like a night at the bar.

I pulled off my helmet and attached it to my bike, then walked the long path to the front door and rang the bell. It may have been my family home, but it wasn't
my
home anymore.

My sister, Tammy, met me at the door and pulled me into a hard hug. "Oh my God, Derek, where have you been? We've missed you." She stepped away to look at me and smiled. "
I've
missed you. How could you just abandon your little sister like that?"

"Tam, we talk every week. It's not like I disappeared." But I had to admit, it felt good to see her again. She'd grown a lot. Last time I saw her she'd just turned sixteen and had been a late bloomer. Now she was a young woman, and she'd definitely bloomed. A growl formed at the base of my throat at the thought of any man touching her, but Dean, her twin brother, could look after her. They'd always been close. I was only four years older, but it felt like a lot more, especially after I left.

"What happened? Is Dean okay?"

Her smile at seeing me faded, as she struggled to hold in the tears forming in her eyes. "No, no he's not. Come in. Dad wants to talk to you, I'm sure, and Mom is dying to see you."

She took my backpack from me. "They're in the library. I'll put this in your room."

"I still have a room?" I'd assumed they'd turned it into a gym, or a scrapbooking room for my mom.

"Of course you still have a room." She rolled her eyes and for a moment looked like the sixteen-year-old girl I'd left behind. "This is your home. Your family. You'll always have a place here, whether you want it or not."

Her words cut at me, though I didn't think she meant them to. She and Dean could never understand why I left, why I didn't want to join the family business and become Dad's mini-me. Sometimes, I had a hard time understanding it myself.

David O'Conner commanded a room, whether alone and casual or amidst hundreds of people in formal wear. He pushed his plush leather chair back from his mahogany desk and stood when I walked in. "Derek, you've come home."

My mother, Lauren O'Conner, the woman who had turned down a New York modeling career to become a literature professor, replaced a copy of Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales
that she'd been perusing and smiled up at me. "My boy."

They'd aged since I'd seen them last, but they wore it well. A creeping of grey hair at his temples gave my father a distinguished look, and my mother, always a beauty, still carried herself with a grace and elegance that few women could mimic.

She put her delicate hand on my face. "Have you found what you've been looking for, out there on the road?"

I shrugged. "Maybe life isn't about the answers, but rather the adventure."

"Always the wandering philosopher." She shook her head, but didn't lose her smile. "I'll let you and your father catch up. Come tell me of these adventures when you have a few moments to spare, will you?"

I kissed her cheek, still smooth despite the fine lines forming around her eyes. "Of course. It's good to see you again, Mom."

When she closed the door behind her, my dad held out his arms to me and I accepted his hug, then pulled back. "I'm not staying. I'm just here to help with Dean until he's better."

My dad's smile faded. Seemed I was on a roll at tearing the hope from everyone tonight. "I know you don't want to be here, but I'm glad you came. Tammy needs you now most of all. This has hit her the hardest."

"She seemed okay to me." A lie. She had only seemed okay on the surface, but I could tell she carried a lot of pain and rage in her eyes.

"You know your sister. She doesn't want anyone thinking she's weak." He walked to the leather loveseat in the corner and sat down, gesturing for me to join him. I sat across from him in the matching chair.

People always said we looked alike. My father's dark hair had turned salt and pepper, but I'd seen pictures of him when he was my age, and I supposed I could see the resemblance. We were both tall, with a lean build, dark hair and unusual eyes. But where I was most comfortable in jeans and a leather jacket, my dad enjoyed fine tailored suits, even when working from home, like now.

Around us, books covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and my fingers itched to pick one from a shelf and start reading. I'd spent a lot of time in this room as a child growing up, and it brought back memories. For the last two years, I'd had to keep my library on an e-reader, and I missed the feel of actual paper between my fingers as I read.

On one wall, a fire burned bright, crackling as it consumed the wood and filling the room with the smell and memories of campfires.

Dad noticed my focus and smiled a real smile. "You know you're welcome in here anytime. These books are for everyone, not just me."

I nodded without committing to anything. It would be too easy to get sucked into this life again, and I wasn't willing to give up my freedom. "What can I do to help with Dean?"

"Before we talk about Dean, I'd like to hear about your adventures. What have you been doing? You haven't used any of your trust fund, so I'm curious about how you've been supporting yourself."