Read Risk (Gentry Boys #2) Online

Authors: Cora Brent

Risk (Gentry Boys #2) (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Truly

 

The buzzing of my phone tore me out of a restless sleep.  I fumbled for it in the darkness, my heartbeat quickening as my mind caught on to the fact that it was the middle of the night and no one ought to be calling just to say hello. 

I looked at the phone and saw the words ‘Carrie’s Cell’.  I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding.  “Carrie!” 

“Toooleee,” my youngest sister sang into the phone.  It was how she used to pronounce my name when she was small. 

“Baby, it’s four thirty in the morning.  What’s wrong?”

I could almost hear her shrugging with a toss of her red hair.  “Nothin’ at all.  I saw you called last week one late night and didn’t leave a message.  Why didn’t you leave a message, sweets?  Anyway, I kept meaning to call you back but life’s just been a hot whirlwind.”

“I had just called to say hello.  You on your way to class?” I asked, rubbing my eyes and remembering the time in Virginia was three hours ahead. 

“Soon.  But I want to catch up with my favorite big sister first.” 

I smiled in spite of being vaguely annoyed by the hour of the call.  Carrie’s ‘favorite big sister’ had always varied among Mia, Aggie and me.  It depended on what kind of mood she was in or what she wanted.  I never minded though.  Carrie could be as sweet as she was demanding.  There was also an element of shrewdness about her.  Rather than suffer from being the last Lee girl remaining in Laura’s clutches, she’d managed to land a full scholarship to a country boarding school full of the South’s most privileged daughters.  Carolina Lee would be a force to reckon with someday. 

“This big sister’s just fine,” I told her, settling back into the bed pillows.  It was dark as a cave inside my room.  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Carrie was always happy to switch the topic of conversation back to herself.  She chatted about her soccer team, poked fun at her wealthy classmates, and laughed about all the boys who chased her. 

After going on for about fifteen minutes she paused.  “Truly?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“Were you really just calling me to say hello?”

“Is that so tough to believe?  Why do you ask?”

“Because I talked to Aggie recently.”

“What did she say?”

Carrie sighed.  “That you guys didn’t argue, not exactly, but didn’t end up blowing kisses to each other either.”  Her voice grew a little wistful.  “You two were always welded together.  Mia and I were nearly jealous.  It was the two of you we looked to, you know.  Not to Laura.” 

I swallowed.  “How is Mama?”

“Self pitying and messy as she ever was.  She’s living in a tin box outside of Mobile. I try not to inquire.” 

It was foolish of me to ask the next question.  “She ever ask about me?”

My sister’s pause told me all I needed to know.  “Honey, you know Laura can’t bring herself to care about a thing but who’s buyin’ her next drink and how soon she can lie down for him.”  Carrie sucked in a breath.  “Shit, I’m sorry, Truly.”

“It’s all right.  Maybe it should be said. We’ve never talked about it but it’s true. I took a man who belonged to my own mother.” 

Carrie got angry.  “He was a lousy piece of filth.  She should have seen that and understood what he was really after.  You were just a girl.” 

“I was seventeen.  You’re seventeen.  Would you be so weak, Carrie?”  She didn’t answer so I pressed her.  “Well, would you?”

“No,” she said quietly.   “But I’m not going to look down my nose at you for that mistake.  I’m sure I’ll make a mistake someday.  You don’t owe that woman a thing.  She was sick with jealousy from the time you could fill a bra.  She can’t call herself a mother, not as far as I’m concerned.  Don’t go wasting any more pain on her. I get the feeling you’ve suffered quite enough already, Tallulah.” 

A tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t easily describe what it meant to have another person understand the guilt and loneliness of my past four years.  But apparently my willful, beautiful little sister had realized it somehow.  The fact was almost too much. 

“Miss you, kiddo,” I whispered. 

“Miss you too,” she whispered back.  Carrie cleared her throat.  “Honey, I’ve gotta get to class now but don’t go so long between phone calls.  And Tru?  Don’t give up tryin’ to reach Augusta.  That girl’s not so tough as she seems.” 

I was sorry to hear her go.  I could have said more to her even though Carrie had made it clear that she thought the past ought to stay where it was.  She would, however, have been interested to hear about Creedence.

My hand reached out and touched the emptiness of the bed next to me.  It seemed wrong that he wasn’t there.  I could almost feel the strong pressure of his hands on me.  Creed was at turns both grumpy and soulful, with a head full of demons he couldn’t quite part with.  He was also sincere, genuine, and unbearably beautiful. 

And tomorrow night there was a real possibility I might lose him forever. 

All these dark new thoughts were making me feel poorly enough but when I glanced down at my phone my breath caught.  The date had crept up on me.  I’d known it was there; it was always there, hanging over me like a thundercloud.  But usually I managed to brace myself before the rains began. 

Even though I knew sleep was no longer possible, I pulled the covers over my body anyway.  My hands went to my stomach, as they always did.  I shut my eyes and remembered the things I made myself forget every other day of the year.  The physical pain was easy to conjure.  The emotion agony nearly flattened me.

When I finally pulled the covers away and prepared to face the day the sun was out.  I felt as if I’d been alone behind the door of my bedroom for a year. 

“Hey,” said Stephanie from the living room couch.  She had her book in her hand and my cat in her lap. 

“You’re up early,” I muttered, heading into the kitchen. 

Stephanie followed.  “Were you crying?”

“No.” 

“Is it the ogre?”

“No.” 

Steph leaned against the stove.  She gave a short laugh and bent her head forward, her shaggy blonde curls falling over her face.  “What a shitty pair we are, huh?”

“A matched set,” I agreed. 

After showering, scrubbing the stove and cleaning out the kitty litter box I couldn’t stay boxed inside the apartment anymore.  Stephanie was still sitting on the couch in her pajamas, reading
The Hobbit
.   She looked comfortable, more at ease than I’d ever seen her.  She merely nodded when I said I needed to get out for a while. 

Once I was in my car and sweating through the Tempe traffic I thought about showing up for work.  Even though it was generous of Ed to give me the time off, I couldn’t really afford the financial hit.  In the end though I just couldn’t face the smell of cooking grease and the monotony of cheerful serving. 

I wanted to do something bold, something to advertise to the world a fact I’d kept hidden for so long.  It was time. 

I’d forgotten that Cordero Gentry worked at the tattoo parlor.  Cord was the one who walked over to help me. 

“Hi,” he said, visibly puzzled to see me sitting on one of the plush velvet chairs in the waiting area up front. 

“Hey Cord,” I answered, scouring my brain for a way out of this. 

Cord leaned on the counter and patiently waited for me to spit out whatever it was I needed to say.  He most likely thought I’d sought him out to ask about Creed. 

I looked right into his blue eyes.  They were the exact same shade as his brother’s. “Actually I’m looking to get a tattoo.” 

Cord glanced around.  “Well, you came to the right place.  It’s what we do here.”  He stared at me for a moment, perhaps sensing my discomfort.  “Truly, would you like me to grab someone else to help you?”

“No, it’s okay.  I don’t mind if it’s you.”  I pointed to the elaborate ink on his arms.  “After all, it seems like you know what you’re doing.” 

He smiled.  “All right, then.  Step into my office.”  

Cord whistled lightly as he waited for me to follow him.  As I walked through the place I stared around in fascination at the artwork covering the walls.  It was like being inside someone else’s dream.  A man with huge ear gauges and ink from his wrists to his shoulders was listening to a pair of college girls argue over which Celtic design would make the best tramp stamp.  He smirked at Cord and rolled his eyes.  Cord chuckled and opened the door to a tiny room. 

“After you,” he said, making a chivalrous hand gesture. 

I set my purse on the floor and carefully sat on the edge of the large black chair. 

“So,” Cord said, pulling up a bench, “what are you looking to get?”

  I cleared my throat and tried to explain what I was looking for.  “I just want something simple, something showing a specific date.”  I thought for a minute.  “Maybe you could somehow write it into a magnolia blossom?”

Cord nodded.  “If you want.  I can do whatever you tell me to.”  He picked up a pen and a pad, tearing off a page of intricate drawings and balling it up.  He tossed it cleanly into the wastebasket without looking and began rapidly sketching on a fresh sheet of paper.  After a minute he held it up.  “Like that?” 

“Yes,” I breathed.  He had drawn a perfectly rendered flower.  It nearly looked alive.  “Exactly like that.” 

Cord was pleased.  “Now I can build the date into the design.  Just tell me what it is.” 

“Today,” I answered and Cord looked up.  “September fourteenth.” 

“Okay,” he said.  “You want a year with that?”

“No.  The month and day are enough.” 

He returned to his sketch, deftly adding the numbers nine and fourteen inside the petals of the flower.   He showed it to me.  “So where do you want it?” 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.  “Where do folks usually put these things?” 

“Anywhere,” he laughed.  “Just depends on how much you want it to be seen.” 

I could barely hear my own voice.  “I want it to be seen.  It should be seen.”  Cord was staring at me strangely so I shook off my odd mood and pointed to my right shoulder.   “Put it right here.” 

“Roll up your sleeve,” he said, already getting his tools out. 

He kept a serious look on his face the whole time he worked.  I expected he would ask me the significance of the day; whether it was my birthday or someone’s death.  He didn’t though.  I kept my head turned away most of the time. I didn’t care about seeing the needle, but I didn’t want to see him.  With his head bent and a stern concentration to his manner, he reminded me too much of Creed. 

“How is he?” I blurted out when Cord had been working for about ten minutes. 

He paused, then sighed.  “He’s hanging in there.”  I looked at Creed’s brother and noted the sag of his broad shoulders.  He gave me a sad grin.  “That’s what we’re all doing, isn’t it, Truly?” 

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” I muttered and leaned back into the chair, closing my eyes and waiting for him to finish. 

Cord refused to accept any money for the tattoo. 

“Fuck that; we get some leeway to do favors for friends,” he said airily and pushed my cash back in my face.  I was irritable as I stuffed it back in my purse.  It was one of the most infuriating things about the Gentry boys; so gruff and yet so gallant. 

Cord walked me out.  My shoulder stung a big but it was nothing.  It was like suffering a paper cut beside a gaping stab wound. 

“I want to see him,” I said and hated the shakiness in my voice.  “I want to see him so much.” 

Cord slumped against the building and looked up at the sky. 

“I know,” he answered.  “But it’s better if you don’t.” 

I was going to dissolve.  Again.  I would be little more than a breathing puddle of tears if I kept this up.

“Cord?” I asked haltingly and he gave me his attention.  “You’ll let me know?  When it’s…over?”

One way or another, whether he’s dead or alive. 

He shut his eyes tight and leaned forward, looking like he might vomit on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, kid.  I’ll let you know.” 

I didn’t have any words of comfort.  If I told him how much I cared for his brother it would probably only make him feel worse. 

I left him there on the side of the building and walked back to my car, angry with the heat and even with the sunlight.  It all seemed like a mistake.  It seemed like the world ought to be covered in a cold gray fog.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CREED

 

I was just going to heave the thing over the patio wall and leave it there, figuring no one would be interested in stealing it.   Truly should have been at work and she’d always said that Stephanie person was hardly ever around. 

It must have been my lucky week all around though. No sooner had I managed to jump the wall and haul the thing over with a grunt when the sliding glass door slid open. 

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Stephanie exclaimed, sounding rather like a character from
Goodfellas
.   I glanced at her and noticed she was holding a baseball bat.  She looked as if she was considering using it too. 

I ignored her and finished lifting the heavy piece over the wall, setting it in the middle of the patio. 

“I asked you a question, asshole!” 

“Jesus, I heard you,” I spat, wiping my sweaty face on my shirt.

Stephanie wrinkled her nose and looked down.  “What the hell is
that
?”

“It’s for Truly,” I said quietly.  Then I realized Stephanie was still standing there with her bat, looking like she might try to make head cheese out of me. “Why don’t you put that damn thing down, Stephanie?  And why are you acting like you’ve never seen me before for fuck’s sake?”

She glanced at the bat and had enough grace to look slightly embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “Guess I’m a little on edge these days.”  She opened the door the rest of the way.  “You can come in if you want.” 

“Great,” I muttered, but I picked up the object I’d deposited on the porch and carried it through the door with me. 

Stephanie had set the bat down and she was now watching me with more curiosity than suspicion.  “You brought her an ugly table?”

“No,” I said and unfolded the top, reaching in to pull up the attached machine. 

Stephanie looked a bit nonplussed.  “It’s a…”

“Sewing machine,” I finished.  I ran my hand over the rough black surface.  Much of the lettering had worn off but the old lady who sold it to me showed me it was still functional.  With some oil and a few basic repairs it would work like new. 

Truly’s roommate let out a low whistle and gently touched the wooden base. 

“You went to some trouble,” Stephanie commented.  She had odd, honey-colored eyes.  They assessed me carefully.  When she smiled I got the feeling it wasn’t something she did very often.  “She’ll love it, Creed.”  Then she laughed and the pretty girl hiding underneath her bad attitude came out.  “You know buddy, you sure aren’t what you seem at first.”

“Oh yeah?  Who is?”

“Me,” she grimaced. “I’m every bit the bitch I appear to be.”

“If you were then you would have knocked me across the kidneys with that stupid bat anyway.” 

“Maybe,” she shrugged.  She glanced at the door.  “She should be back soon.  I don’t mind if you want to wait around.” 

Dolly had sidled over to rub against my legs.  I leaned down and scratched her behind the ears.  “She’s not at work today?”

“No.  She said she’d be back in a little while.” 

“Oh.”  I gave Dolly one last pat and stood.  “Actually I’ve got some shit I’ve got to return to.”

Stephanie cocked her head.  “Well are you gonna call her?  Leave a note?  Anything?”

I shook my head and ran my fingertips along the surface of the sewing machine.  “I just wanted to make sure she got this.”  I started for the door. 

“I’ll see ya, Creed,” Stephanie called. 

It was just something people said to each other, a basic goodbye.  I shut the door without answering. I didn’t know if she
would
see me again.

I went home and sat in the quiet living room.  Everyone was out and about, including Declan.  When Gabe had first called with the fight details it had seemed so soon.  But now the long hours stretching ahead were like a cruel taunt.  I knew how to numb it if I wanted to.  I could take a quick trip to Derry’s and then spend the night in a black oblivion.  Awful things lived in there but at least they made the time pass in such a way that when I resurfaced it would seem like only five minutes had passed instead of ten hours.

I actually hated the shit.  Hated the taste of it, the smell of it, the spreading warmth in my chest as it crawled its way through my blood.   I got drunk for the first time when I was thirteen.  Benton had stowed a six-pack under the sink and then had to go sit in County for a month.  Chase was the one who took it but I ended up cracking open four out of the six cans.  The three of us were camping out in the desert, as we often did just to get away from the stink of the trailer.  Chase and Cord were arguing over constellations or some shit but I just sprawled on my back in the sand and watched the stars move around in unnatural ways as the alcohol messed with my head. 

“That’s Orion,” I remembered Cord saying. 

“Bullshit,” Chase snorted.  “You never seem to learn a thing in school.  He’s over there.  Look, don’t you see the shape of the hunter?  Those three stars in the middle, that’s his belt, dickhead.”

From there they started arguing about the girls in our class and which of them was willing to mess around the most.  Chase made some wild claims and Cord clocked him across the head for being the bullshit artist that he was.  I listened to my brothers’ playful battles while something blacker than sleep began to take hold of me.  It was nice, at first.  It was like falling into a barrel filled with thick cotton and not minding when someone pulled the lid closed.  But the further I sank into its depths the more I realized what else was in there with me. 

“Worthless little shits, all three of you.  Should have forced your mama to get rid of you the minute I found out you were in her belly.” 

When that voice found me in the blackness, I had lashed out and nearly toppled straight into the campfire.  Cord and Chase pulled me back.  Over the years they would do it again and again. 

“No,” I said out loud to myself in my empty living room.  “No.” 

Hell no, I wouldn’t spend tonight that way.  I wouldn’t make my brothers lift me and clean up my fucking vomit and let that be the last of their memories. 

At a quarter to five I remembered that I needed to go pick up Cord at work.  I’d gotten the use of the truck to pick up Truly’s sewing machine, although I didn’t tell the boys that was why I needed it.  I didn’t know if Saylor had told Cord.  He hadn’t asked me.

Cord was waiting for me in front of the tattoo shop.  He was smoking a cigarette, which was all but unheard of for him.  When I honked the horn he shot me a bashful grin and hopped into the passenger seat.  I thought about razzing him a little, asking what a father-to-be was doing pumping garbage into his lungs but I knew he was just trying to get through the day. 

“You do what you needed to do?” he asked me. 

“Yup.” 

Cord shifted and let out a sigh.  He shifted again and opened the window. 

“You gotta piss?” I asked him. 

“No.”  He closed the window and jacked up the air conditioning.  “Truly came by today.” 

I couldn’t control the sudden lurch in my heart.  “What for?  To see you?”

“Not really.  She wanted a tattoo.  I think she’d clean forgotten that I worked there.” 

“What did she need a tattoo for?”

Cord snickered.  “I don’t ask my customers for detailed explanations.  I just ink what they want me to ink.”  He was watching me.  “Girl’s heartbroken if you ask me.”

“I didn’t break her heart.” 

My brother’s voice was unusually gentle.  “You didn’t mean to.” 

I drove the rest of the way home in silence.  When we reached the apartment I didn’t shut off the engine.  Cord stepped out of the truck and leaned inside. 

“You plan on sitting in there and sweltering all evening?”

“No,” I replied.  “I’m just waiting for you to shut the door.” 

Cord lowered his head.  “Creedence.” 

“Cordero,” I snapped.  Then I sighed.  “If it came down to it, wouldn’t you want to be with Say?”

At least that was something he understood.  “As long as I could,” he said, giving me a crooked grin. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.  Don’t slam the door like an animal.” 

I watched Cord walk to the apartment door alone before I drove off. 

Truly’s ravaged Escape was sitting in the parking lot outside her apartment.  I was ridiculously nervous walking up to the door.  I felt like some adolescent prick on his first date.   As I knocked I hoped that Stephanie chick didn’t greet me with her bat again. 

I didn’t need to worry.  Truly Lee flung the door open with a cry and jumped into my arms. 

“Baby,” I whispered as her mouth went all over my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist.  We kissed as if we’d been separated for years, tongues intertwined, hands everywhere.  I carried her straight into her bedroom like that, not knowing or caring if her damn roommate was standing there gaping at us. 

Once we were behind a closed door I had our clothes off and my dick inside her within seconds.  We did it like that against the wall beside her closet, humping furiously and climaxing together.  The next time was slow.  It was on her bed.   I bent her legs at the knee and pushed them on either side of her.  She arched her back to meet my thrust and I slid into her as she let out a soft moan like she always did.  I watched her face as I moved in and out of her body.   I was trying to remember everything about the way she felt.  I also wanted her to remember everything about me.   For the first time in my life I wasn’t just fucking a woman; I was loving her.

“Creedence,” she gasped when the heat between us reached a crescendo.  I kissed her as she came, shuddering and calling out my name again and again.  Then I gathered her soft body as close as I could, trying to reach as deep as possible.  Truly shuddered with another wild orgasm just as I got to the point where I couldn’t stand it and came with such raging force that a growl ripped right out of my throat. 

As I fell into her breasts, panting and winded, I felt her cool arms around me, exploring the hard ridges of my muscles.  The sound of her heartbeat was right next to my ear and it vaguely occurred to me that I’d never been in a warmer place than this. 

“I love it,” she whispered.  “Thank you.” 

She was talking about the sewing machine but also something else.   The machine itself was a battered antique I’d scored for a hundred bucks.  It certainly wasn’t the biggest luxury gift a guy ever gave his girl, but I knew it would make her happy.  It showed that I listened and that I understood what mattered.  It was the only thing I could think of to give her if the worst happened and I wasn’t around anymore to give her myself. 

I refused to look at the time.  It didn’t matter.  When the sky began to lighten again then I would go.  I would spent the last few hours before the fight getting my head to a place where I could accept what I needed to do in order to get back here. 

As I rolled to my back I took Truly with me, settling her against my chest with my hands in her dark hair.  A fierce possessive rush broke over me.  I didn’t know what to call what we’d started here last month but I knew this beautiful girl belonged to me. 

And I had every goddamn intention of returning to her. 

 

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