Illicit acollection, p.102
Illicit: A Contemporary Romance Collection, page 102
I fight the bile rising up in my throat, not wanting to show him that he’s getting to me. He’s baiting me.
But there it is. It’s why I can’t get past this. Because this man finds a way to find me, use me, twist everything in my life against me.
“You won’t stop, will you? When you get out.”
He doesn’t need to respond because I can see it in his eyes.
“My parole hearing was moved up,” he utters. “I’m getting out, Chase.”
Ice works through me, starting from my neck and creeping down my chest.
“Since you weren’t going to testify for me, your mother didn’t think you’d care to know when the timing changed.”
He didn’t want me to find out in case I testified against him. Neither of them did.
Maybe I knew it before I set foot in here.
Maybe that’s the real reason I came.
If this table wasn’t bolted in place, I’d throw it across the room.
My father folds his hands in front of him and leans forward. A few minutes ago, I wanted to retreat, but I’m struck with the sudden urge to reach across the table, if only for a chance to wrap my fingers around his throat.
My voice, in contrast to my emotions, is deadly calm. “You’re going to leave my mom alone. You’re going to leave Drew alone. You’re going to stay way the hell away from me and everyone in my life. Tell me you understand.”
He considers before saying the last thing I expect. “I took you for granted, Chase.”
Sitting across from my father, surrounded by high walls and bullet-proof plastic, I realize he was always as dangerous with his words as he was with his hands.
I stand, the metal legs of the chair scraping loudly on the floor. “I’m leaving.”
The guard moves toward my father, who looks as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Chase?”
I stop and look back.
“I missed you, son.”
29
Ariel
Chase: He’s getting out of jail.
I read the weird text from an hour ago twice.
I tried calling him but got no response.
I figured we’d see him at practice, but an hour a later, there’s no sign of him.
“Where the hell is Owens?” Coach demands of no one.
Tess and I exchange a look as he stalks off, shaking his head.
“You haven’t heard from him at all today since that text?” Tess’s gaze is sympathetic.
“Nothing.”
We fall into step as we jog our warm-up with the rest of the team. It’s raining, but for once I don’t care. No amount of rain—or hail or snow, for that matter—could make me feel worse than I’m already feeling.
Tess easily covers the ground next to me.
“I should’ve known something was wrong.” Every word is self-inflicted punishment.
“Yeah, well. Love makes you blind.”
“What?” I nearly trip, but there’s nothing to trip on.
Tess’s mouth quirks up. “Come on. I saw you guys on the couch last week when he came over.” My eyes widen, and she holds up a hand. “Not like that. I mean when you were watching TV. The way you curl into him like you need to be closer and he puts his arm around you like he’ll protect you with his dying breath?” She sighs. “Believe me, that boy wants a future with you.”
I definitely feel things have progressed between us. Being in a relationship that’s so satisfying is new for me. And being in any relationship is new for Chase.
Still, there are a lot of four-letter words I’ve heard from Chase, and “love” isn’t one I expect. Not because Chase doesn’t get serious about things. Beneath the surface, he’s probably one of the most intense guys I know. I’m just not sure that intensity about other things translates into intensity about me.
“Aren’t you in love with him?” Tess asks.
“I don’t know.”
Chase means more to me than any guy ever has, and we’re shockingly good together on so many levels. He’s supportive of my dreams, calls me out when I’m being dumb, pushes me to try new things. He cares about other people and wants to do right by them.
I’d really like the chance to find out what we could be, and sitting around worrying isn’t helping either of us.
I pull up at the end of our lap, and Tess follows my lead. “I can’t deal with being out of the loop. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to find out.”
Tess raises an eyebrow. “How exactly?”
The sign for the Arch is lit, the fluorescents barely standing out against the hazy twilight sky. The lot’s nearly empty, and Tess parks her Honda next to Amos’s motorcycle and a car I don’t recognize.
Tess gets a call and motions that she’s going to take it while I go inside.
There’s no sign of Chase or Amos when I walk in, but I find Amos’s uncle, Tor, stacking glasses behind the bar.
“Excuse me?” I venture.
Tor glances over but doesn’t move.
“Do you know where I could find Chase?”
He doesn’t answer. The man is pushing seventy, and there are no wasted movements. His hair’s gray, his face lined, but his hands move with sureness and purpose. Maybe he’s who Chase learned it from.
“In my experience, you’ll find that boy when he wants to be found.”
I try a different tactic. “Can I help with anything?”
“Put these up there?” He points at a rack over the bar.
I look around and spot a stool nearby. “Sure.” I drag the stool over and put up the wine glasses. “This is a great bar.”
“Had this place twenty years. Won it in a poker game.” I pause, my hand hovering in midair. “Came to this country a grown man. My little sister, Aileen, moved here for school and married some arse. He left her a year after Amos was born. I sold my pub in Aberdeen and came to keep an eye on her.”
“Wow. That’s very kind of you.”
“What family does.”
I think about my father, the way he tries to protect me, numb the pain with doctors and houses with privacy gates. “My dad and I are close, but we still seem to disagree on a lot.” I’m not sure why I offer it but it’s out before I can stop myself.
“Your mother?” Tor asks gruffly.
“My mom died when I was a baby.”
It’s kind of a conversation killer, and I’m grateful I’ve finished putting the glasses away. I get off the stool and see Tor watching me.
I don’t want to go home right now. Being around someone who knows Chase is comforting, and Tor has this frank but calming way about him.
I notice some dirty dishes in the sink and put them into the dishwasher. “So, you met Chase through Amos?”
“Chase showed up at the door one day. Forty in a seventeen-year-old body. Boy thought he knew everything.”
What would Chase have looked like as a teenager? Maybe longer hair falling across his face. No tattoos. Did he have that same look of disillusionment, or had that come later? Did he still light up when you got underneath the layers, those moments of softening like the world was suddenly a little brighter than he expected?
“You took him in.” It’s not a question. I know how highly Chase thinks of Tor.
The old man crosses to stand beside me while I load. “There are two kinds of family: the kind you’re born with and the kind you choose.” He scratches the gray stubble on his jaw. When I look past the bags on his face, his eyes are clear and blue. “There’s a lot I’d do for my blood. But for the family I chose? Well, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
I set the last plate in the dishwasher, then rub my hands on a bar towel to dry them. “He sent me a text that his father’s getting out of jail. Now he won’t answer me, and I don’t know what that means. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
He looks impassively at me. “Jack Owens is scum. The things he did to that boy… but his kind and worse roam the streets every day. Children can’t protect themselves. But Chase isn’t a child anymore.”
Frustration rises up. “So, he has to deal with this alone?” I retort.
“He’s a student of history, Ariel. The boy knows where he came from, and he has a hard time escaping it. He’s reckless with his future because he’s so busy running from his past.”
I try to swallow the emotion flooding me. “It doesn’t seem fair that he has to go through this.”
Tor’s voice softens when he says, “Life’s not fair. It never claimed to be.”
A tear rolls down my cheek. Tor watches me, silent for a long moment. Finally he reaches for a phone and hits a button on it. “Where you at, son? Get back to the bar. And bring him with you.” He hangs up.
My heart leaps. “Was that Chase?”
“Amos. Figured the least he could do is bring that boy back here so he can give you a proper explanation. I don’t know why on God’s green earth your generation thinks they can type a few squiggles on a phone in place of a conversation.”
I manage a smile as I finish my task.
A few minutes later, we both turn toward the door and Amos walks in, the hulking redhead, with Chase on his heels.
Chase pulls up when he sees me, stilling. “Ariel.”
“Hi.”
Chase stands, bracing himself on the bar with his hands. I can’t see his eyes, but even from ten feet away, I can feel the tension in his body.
I’m pretty sure from the somber looks on the faces around the room that everyone here knows the score. “I got your text. What’s going on?”
“What’d you tell her?” Amos asks Chase.
Chase shifts. “Ariel deserves to know."
“And the other one?” Amos murmurs, jerking a thumb toward the doorway behind him.
Tess stumbles in after him as if on cue, jamming her phone into the pocket of her jeans.
“Hello?” Tess waves her arm. “The other one happened to drive us here, so you might as well fill us in. Unless this is the world’s weirdest group therapy session, in which case, I’ve got elsewhere to be.”
“Pull up a seat. Both of you,” Tor barks in a surprisingly assertive voice.
No one disagrees with him. Chase offers me a bar stool next to him, and Amos pushes one over to Tess.
“I told you my father was in jail,” Chase says, his gaze on me. “What I didn’t tell you is that he’s up for parole. He’s being released early.”
A stone settles in my stomach. I’ve been hoping I misinterpreted the message, but hearing it point-blank makes everything worse.
“He’s getting out because of good behavior, right?” Tess asks, her gaze flicking from Chase to me. “That means he can’t be that bad. What does he do?”
Amos ticks off his fingers. “A little coke. A little meth. A little beating the shit out of whoever he feels like. Whatever else is in style.” He flashes a humorless grin, and Tess’s face goes pale.
“When he gets out, he wants back in my life,” Chase says.
My brain’s already racing. “What, you mean at Sunday dinners?”
“He’ll find a way in. He always does.”
I step closer to him. Tess and Amos start talking about something else in the background. Chase’s eyes bore into mine.
“I can’t ever get rid of him, Ariel.”
“Then I’ll go down to that jail and tell him to leave you alone.”
His eyes flash. “Don’t even think about it.”
“There must be something you can do if he’s as bad as you say. I mean, he should be in jail for years, Chase. Years and years. Didn’t he do drugs? Traffic them?”
My eyes fall closed.
If someone’d told me I’d be in love with a guy whose biggest commonality with his father was that they’d both done jail time, I’d have called them nuts.
But I am, I realize.
“You know what?” I blink my eyes open to find Chase watching me steadily. “We’ll deal with it. But I need things to be normal, Chase. For a day.” I grab his hands and thread my fingers through his. “Can we do that?”
He mulls it over, his emerald gaze working over mine. “Yeah.” His voice is rough, and it sounds like he wants to tell me something more. In the end, what he says is, “I’ll come by tomorrow. Early.”
Before I can ask what for, he leans down and seals his lips over mine.
Even though we’re both upset, our mouths move together as though they belong that way. I let out a little noise and reach my arms around his neck. He presses closer, and when his hard body fits against mine, I melt against him.
Whatever I felt for him weeks ago is a shadow compared to what’s running through me now. The time we’ve spent together has brought us closer. It’s powerful and a little terrifying because I can’t go a day without thinking of how much I care about him, how much he matters.
When he pulls back, his gaze flashes with decision. “Tomorrow. Blow off whatever plans you have. I’m picking you up at ten.”
I blink up at him, still trying to find myself after our kiss. “Really? What’re we doing?”
He relents and fills me in.
A smile splits my face. “For real?”
“Yup. Now we both have something to look forward to.”
30
Chase
“That’s her?”
“Yeah.”
Drew leans forward in his seat to get a better look at Ariel, who’s crossing the parking lot toward the truck. She’s wearing a denim skirt that hits partway up her thighs and little shoes with heels that are distracting me in a big way.
“Are you sure?” Drew shoots me a skeptical look.
I poke him lightly in the ribs, where I know he’s ticklish, and he doubles over with a grin. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He doesn’t have a chance to respond because Ariel opens the passenger door, a broad smile on her face when she sees my brother. “Drew, right?”
“Yeah.” His eyes widen.
Drew’s not usually shy around strangers, but he’s not sure what to make of her. When I told him we were bringing Ariel along today, I thought he was going to fall over. I’ve never brought girls around him.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ariel. Is there room for me in here? If not, I can ride in the back.” I can tell she’s joking, but I appreciate the way she says it, like it’s Drew’s and my club and she’s the intruder.
“No, it’s okay.” Drew moves closer to me so Ariel can have the passenger seat.
“So where are we going today?” I told her last night, but she clearly wants to hear it from Drew.
His gaze flicks between her and the dash. “Chase said there’s a cool gallery at his school.”
“And you draw?”
“Sure.”
“Nice. What kinds of things?”
Under Ariel’s easy questions, he gradually loosens up as I drive us across campus to the gallery.
When we cross the foyer, Drew’s already in awe. There’re canvases bigger than me on the walls and a giant sculpture of some guy hanging from the ceiling.
“What is that?” Drew asks as he takes in the sculpture.
It must be ten feet tall, but it’s suspended so it stops well above my head, not to mention his. It looks like a man coming out of a fire. The artist has managed to make it a full nude, and the fire doesn’t obscure any of the important bits.
Which I’d want if I were the guy in the sculpture because he’s hung like a horse.
“It looks like that guy from Fantastic Four,” Drew says before moving ahead of us to get closer to it.
“Or the Fantastic Foursome,” I whisper in Ariel’s ear. “I think I saw it on pay-per-view.”
She tries, unsuccessfully, to hold in the laugh.
I can’t quite take my eyes off the guy’s supersized junk. “Jesus, leave some for the rest of us, would you?”
“Apparently, it’s supposed to be the Greek god Mars,” Ariel says, turning back to Drew. “The sculpture was done by a former student. The guy went here about twenty years ago and is now pretty famous.”
Drew and I turn to look at her, impressed.
“Cool,” he breathes.
When Drew’s gaze cuts back up to the figure, mine stays on Ariel. I step closer. “You’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t know you were an art fan.”
“I’m not,” she whispers. “But I did a little studying last night after you told me where we were going. Now at least I know the difference between a Picasso and a Pollock.” She grins.
“Hey, Ariel!”
She skips ahead to follow Drew to a painting up the hall.
I can’t believe she looked this place up so she’d know about it and could talk to Drew. The girl gets another ten points in my book. I’d expected things to be awkward after what I told her about us growing up. Instead she treats Drew as if he’s her own little brother, laughing with him, teasing him.
“Hey, check it out,” she says. “Here’s a poster for classes for high school students on campus. You’re not quite old enough, but maybe we could put a fake goatee on you and smuggle you in.”
Drew’s expression lights up, then dims again. “I don’t know if I’d be allowed.”
I know what Drew’s thinking. Mom doesn’t have a lot of money for extra things, plus she’s suspicious of new stuff.
I take a look at the poster. The classes aren’t expensive. I could swing it by swearing off beer for another couple of months after running season, but he would need a ride to them once a week.
Ariel’s enthusiasm is contagious, and I don’t want to say no. “All right, let’s see what we can do.”
An hour later, Drew and I are sipping pop we got from the café and watching over Ariel’s while she uses the washroom. We finished a complete lap of the gallery in a little under two hours. I need to take Drew home and get back to schoolwork, but I’m reluctant to leave this bubble.
“How was that?” I ask.
“Really cool,” he says. His expression is the most contented I’ve seen. “I didn’t know you could go to school to draw.”
“Yeah. Apparently, this is one of the best programs in the country.” Something I learned from the pamphlets on the table by the front door. I scratch my jaw. “So, what do you think about Ariel?”
