Unbeautifully (8 page)

My mouth fell open, Anabeth let out a banshee-worthy screech, and Ellie ducked as a pillow went flying across the room.

“You slut!” Anabeth screamed.

“Me?” Ellie screamed. “You’ve slept with half the town!”

“You’re both sluts!” I yelled. “And traitors!”

“Oh please, Danny, you can’t get mad. Your brother is the hottest piece of ass in this Podunk town.”

“No! He’s a whore and a jackass and I’m convinced he might be somewhat brain-dead, but he is most definitely not hot!”

“Sorry, Danny,” Ellie said dryly. “He really is.”

I gaped at both of them. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve ruined our friendship! You cannot be friends with someone while you’re sleeping with their brother!”

Anabeth waved me off and went back to painting her toenails. “Please, Danny. You know Cage never fucks anyone twice.”

“No, I did not know that, and do you know why I didn’t know that?
Because he is my brother
!”

“Well, now you know,” Ellie said, turning back to her book. “So, calm down.”

I dropped to the floor with a loud thump and buried my face in my hands. “Oh my god,” I muttered. “I hate my life.”

“This is why you don’t have a boyfriend,” Anabeth said pointedly. “You’re so dramatic.”

• • •

Clutching a fresh bottle of tequila, Ripper poked his head into the hallway, looked right, then left. The coast clear of Deuce or Danny, he wandered around the empty club before deciding on the kitchen, where he found Dorothy bent over the sink, washing dishes, and Hawk seated at the head of the long wooden table, nursing a beer.

Hawk lifted his chin. “Wat up.”

“Nothin’,” he muttered, sliding into the chair beside him.

Dorothy glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “You want some coffee?”

He glared at her. “Do I fuckin’ look like I want coffee?” he said, waving his bottle in the air.

With an exaggerated eye roll tossed his way, she went back to the dishes.

Whatever. She could think he was a drunk. He didn’t give a fuck.

“I’m fuckin’ bored,” Dirty announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Anyone else goin’ crazy?”

Holding up two fingers, Ripper nodded. “Yeah.”

Grabbing the chair across from him, Dirty turned it around and straddled it. “I’ve gone a month without pussy. I got cum backed up straight to my fuckin’ brain.”

Dorothy turned toward Dirty, looking repulsed. “Why?” she asked. “Why must you be so disgusting?”

Dirty ignored her. “I need this shit sucked or fucked
before my head explodes.”

Hawk started laughing and Dirty shot him a look.

“Naw, dude, for real. This shit keeps up, my dick is gonna shrivel up and die.”

Not Ripper. He was having the opposite problem. His dick was going to explode. Between what had gone down at the lake still wreaking havoc on his thoughts, playing on fucking repeat, and now that bikini bullshit yesterday. Goddamn Danny.

“Maybe you should shower?” Dorothy suggested. “Women like that sort of thing.”

Dirty grinned at her. “What’s wrong, D? You don’t like me in my natural state?”

Dirty’s “natural state” was a nasty fucking mess. The dude’s long brown hair was as greasy as fuck, his hands and clothes were stained black from motor oil, his fingernails were long and yellowed, caked with dirt, and he always stunk like week-old garbage. The only club bitches that went to bed with him had either drunk themselves into unconsciousness or gotten roofied by Dirty himself.

“Let’s ride,” Dirty said. “Get the fuck outta Miles and hit up Billings, grab some pussy to go.”

Maybe that’s what he needed. Fresh meat to flush Danny out of his system.

“I’m down,” Hawk muttered and no sooner than the words had left the guy’s mouth, a ceramic bowl came hurtling through the air. They all ducked; the thing hit the wall and shattered on impact. As shards of ceramic went flying in all directions, Hawk jumped up, causing his chair to tip backward.

“Woman,” Hawk growled, glaring at Dorothy. “I’m well past sick of your bullshit.”

Confused, Ripper glanced between the two of them.

Dorothy’s dishcloth hit the counter with a wet slap and she matched Hawk’s glare with one of her own.

Which would have been funny if he wasn’t so confused, seeing as Dorothy was all of five foot nothing, a tiny slip of a woman, and he was positive he’d seen Hawk eat steaks bigger than her.

“You’ve got no right to be sick of my bullshit!”

Hawk’s mouth flattened and his fists clenched. “The fuck I don’t,” he growled low.

“You don’t!” she cried.

“Bitch, you throwin’ dishes at my fuckin’ head, actin’ straight up jealous, is tellin’ me I got a fuckin’ right.”

Dorothy’s now wide, horrified eyes shot to Dirty, then him, then back to Hawk.

“What is wrong with you?” she yelled. “You’ve already done enough damage and now you’re making it worse!”

Eyebrows raised, Ripper got the feeling he was missing something.

Hawk kicked at his fallen chair and took a menacing step toward her. “Damage!” he roared. “Is that what you call it? ’Cause I’m—”

The swinging kitchen doors burst open and Cage ran in, holding a purple backpack over his head.

“Asshole!” Tegen shrieked, running after him. “Give it back!”

“Language!” Dorothy chastised.

Still holding her backpack over his head, Cage grinned down at her. “Aw, Teacup, what’s the matter?”

“Don’t call me that!” she yelled, jumping up and down like a jackrabbit on crack, trying to reach her bag when it was obvious that unless she grew about six inches in the next five seconds, there was no way in hell she was going to even come close. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“No?” He laughed. “You finally grow outta that trainin’ bra?”

“Cage!” Dorothy snapped. “Inappropriate!”

Tegen’s pale, freckled face turned bright red with rage and just as Ripper thought she was about to blow, Cage faked left and then went right, darting around Tegen and back into the hallway.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Tegen went shrieking after him.

“Dammit,” Dorothy muttered, following them. Just before she left, she shot a glaring look in Hawk’s direction that promised all sorts of pain in the genital region.

“In case you forgot,” Dirty said. “That’s Jase’s woman.”

“No,” Hawk growled, “she’s Jase’s whore. He’s never gonna leave Chrissy.”

Dirty shook his head. “Brother, don’t go there. Not with Jase, not over D. He ain’t gonna give her up.”

Hawk’s hard brown eyes bored into Dirty. “Dude,” he muttered, smiling grimly, “you’re a couple years too late with that bullshit.”

Surprised, Dirty glanced at Ripper and he shrugged in return. He hadn’t seen that shit coming either, but the truth of the matter was that Dorothy wasn’t Jase’s old lady, she was club ass, always had been. So if Hawk wanted to go toe-to-toe with Jase over the little redheaded bitch, he didn’t give a fuck.

“So, I’m guessin’ that means no pussy to go,” Dirty said dryly.

“Yeah,” Hawk muttered. “Not really feelin’ it.”

Dirty turned to him. “Ripper?”

He looked down at his bottle. If he were being honest, he really didn’t want any pussy. Except the one he wasn’t supposed to want. The one in the pink bikini with the firm little ass and perfect tits and tight, sweet pussy.

Internally, he groaned. He had to stop this shit.

Then, as if the entire motherfucking universe was against him and setting out to make his life as miserable as possible, Danny chose that very moment to walk into the kitchen. She took one look at him, turned bright red, and walked right back out.

Sighing, he glanced up at Dirty.

“Naw, dude,” he muttered. “I got a hot date with a dead worm.”

Deuce pulled up to the house on his bike and cut his engine. His truck was here, meaning Eva was here, something he’d been hoping to avoid. He hadn’t seen her since she’d shown up at the club with Ivy, and that had been weeks ago.

Sighing, he climbed off the bike and headed for the door. He didn’t have much of a choice. He had to make a run to Manhattan; Preacher wanted proof that business was going bad on the west coast, that his boys out there were double dipping off his profits. Audio proof that ZZ had recorded on a disposable cell phone he’d been keeping in his bedroom safe.

Upon entering the house, he found the downstairs dark and the house quiet. Relief filled him. Maybe she wasn’t home. Maybe Kami had picked her up, maybe—

At the top of the stairs, he found Eva laying Ivy down in her crib. Leaning over the railing, softly stroking her hair, she kissed their daughter good night and whispered, “I love you.”

Watching them, his woman and his daughter, Deuce’s chest started to ache. He missed them both. He missed all of it. Coming home to his family, watching his kids interact with each other, the laughter, the bickering, even the yelling, just taking it all in and enjoying everything he hadn’t had growing up. Then later, after Ivy was asleep, Danny in her room on her phone and Cage gone for the night, he would take Eva upstairs, strip her naked, and fuck the hell out of her.

“You’re home.”

His eyes flew open.

“So are you,” he said, hating that his words came out sounding like an accusation.

“For some reason Danny hasn’t been going to the club at all lately,” she said softly, nodding toward Danny’s closed bedroom door. “And like you said, she shouldn’t be home all alone.”

Guilt swamped him. He’d said that and yet he’d done nothing about it.

“Are you leaving?”

He glanced back at Eva.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Demon delivery.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

She waited a moment, expecting him to offer up more information, and when he didn’t, she nodded and turned away. He followed her down the hallway and into their room, watching as she bent down to pull open her bottom dresser drawer. She emerged with a pair of ratty sweatpants and an old T-shirt, both his, tossed them on the bed, and started undressing.

He kept watching until she was naked, taking it all in. The flower tattoos down her arm, the natural slope of her heavy breasts, the hills and valleys of a body he’d never tired of, the slight bow of her stomach, the ring through her belly button, the tattooed stars encircling it, her perfect, heart-shaped ass.

Everything hit him at once: the little girl he’d met in the family visiting room at Rikers, singing Janis, wearing Chucks, stealing what was left of his broken-down, battered heart. And when she was older, listening to her ramble on about Halloween costumes, thinking no kid as sweet as she was should be living in this life, and wanting better for her. After that the memories changed, as had his feelings for her. Fondness and adoration turned to lust and he’d taken that first kiss, that first taste and touch. Two years later, lust turned to need and he took that pussy first too. Four years passed, and he claimed not just her body but her. Because need had turned to love.

He had her now, he owned her—her body, her baby, her future—it was all his and knowing that, having that, had made every chance meeting over the years, every fuck, every fight, every letdown…

It had made it worth it.

Deuce was rock hard by the time she’d finished dressing. Hard and aching for her.

She took one look at him and knew, she always knew. Those damn beautiful eyes traveled down his body, flaring with heat when she came to his hips. Those juicy lips parted, sucking in a sharp breath, a sound he knew very well. A sound that made him crazy.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

“Babe,” he said quietly. “Yeah.”

She took a small step forward, then stopped. “Can…can I touch you?”

He didn’t like this version of Eva, this timid, unsure woman who was nothing like the quirky, outgoing kid she’d been, or the teenager who didn’t give a fuck about what other people thought, or the young woman who’d refused to take shit from him or anyone else.

But now, that kid, that teenager, that young woman…they were gone.

He couldn’t fault Frankie for this, or the life. This shit was his fault. True, the life had taken its toll on her and Frankie had beat her down, pounded on her something fierce, but she’d persevered through it all.

It had been him, by refusing to let it go, refusing to love her the way a man should, who’d thrown the killing blow.

Deuce could fix it, he knew he could. He could bring the woman he loved back to life. He held that precious power in his hands.

He wanted to fix it.

“Come here, darlin’,” he said hoarsely. All of a second passed before Eva was in his arms and he was carrying her across the room and dropping her on their bed and her hands were in his hair and her mouth…

“This is my fuckin’ mouth,” he growled, kissing her roughly. He tore at her clothes, stripping her violently, grabbing her breasts, telling her over and over again that every part of her was his. Had always been his.

Fuck, he needed her, he needed to be inside of her again. He freed himself and pushed against her; she was ready for him, wet and whimpering, needing him just as badly.

It had been so long since he’d been inside of her, since he’d been able to take what was his, it had been since…

Her breath caught, her eyes rolled back even as tears streamed down her face. Her legs quaking, she went face first into the pillow, crying out softly through her orgasm. Frankie followed her down, groaning loudly, his body jerking.

He fought against the memory, fought it with everything he had. Eva was his. She was motherfucking his. Frankie was dead, gone, he couldn’t take her away from him anymore. She was his. She was his…

Then Frankie turned to him. And grinned.

He hadn’t fucked her since before Frankie. Frankie had been the last man inside his woman. Grinning. That’s all he could see, was that fucking asshole grinning.

“FUCK!” he roared, pushing off the bed and turning away.

“Wait,” she cried, reaching for him. “Baby, wa—”

Anger and pain had him slapping her hands off him. “Shut up,” he growled, yanking his jeans up. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Deuce—”