Part 13 (1/2)

Michael roared in anguish and tore himself free from his brothers. But he didn't go for Kota again. He turned toward the back, toward Faith, and then froze, his face, his whole head, a dark, sinister red, and she could see it dawning on him at the moment that she had seen it all. He roared again and ran toward the door to the back. Faith tried to stop him, but he pushed her away, so hard that she lost her feet and landed on the concrete floor.

He saw what he'd done, and she saw the complete desolation in his eyes. She knew that look. And then he was gone.

The woman who'd torn everything apart was still laughing.

Muse kicked her in the head and shut her up.

Faith sat on the floor, sobbing, terrified and heartbroken, remembering the last time she'd seen that look in Michael's beautiful eyes.

memory Faith sank the ten and the thirteen into the side and corner pockets and then turned and, giggling, smirked at Connor. Her father held up his hand, and they slapped a high five.

”You know,” Connor grumbled, ”it's a lot less cool when you look so f.u.c.king pleased with yourself. Fast Eddie would never have giggled.”

”I don't know who that is. And you're just p.i.s.sed that a girl is kicking your a.s.s. Troglodyte.”

”Blue! She doesn't know Fast Eddie?” Connor turned to Faith. ”The Hustler. Paul Newman. Coolest pool player ever. And I'm letting you win, because I am a gentleman. What's a troglodyte?”

”You are, b.u.t.thead.” She lined up her next shot and felt a gentle nudge of her foot on the floor. Looking down, she saw her father's scuffed cowboy boot pus.h.i.+ng her foot toward the proper position under the cue. She grimaced. Connor was distracting her.

She stood up to reset her stance, and she decided to show him just how good she was. Her daddy had taught her well, but he didn't let her play at the clubhouse often; he didn't like her bending over the table here. They had a table in their garage at home.

She set up a double bank shot and spared a glance up to see Connor frowning at the table, trying to figure out what she was doing. Cool.

Except she missed. She was thinking about Connor more than the game. He crowed with glee and then pushed her back to set up his own shot. Faith stepped over to her dad, who handed over her bottle of c.o.ke.

”Showin' off is the express to trouble, kitty. You know that.”

”I know. He's so c.o.c.ky, though.”

”What d'you think you are?”

Faith turned to her father, who was giving her a smugly wise look. ”I'm not c.o.c.ky.”

He laughed. ”Whatever you say, darlin'.” He took a drink of his beer, and when he put the bottle back at his side, his smile was gone. ”I'm not so sure about tonight. You don't have any other friends you can ask?”

She shook her head. Hoosier, Fat Jack, Blue, and Dusty were riding to Nevada in a couple of hours for a whole-club officer meeting. They'd be gone until tomorrow night. This run had coincided with Bibi and Margot's annual girls' week at a Palm Springs spa.

There were no other old ladies in the club. With a lie, making up reasons that Bethany and Joelle couldn't have her over, and insisting that, since she was only a few months away from her eighteenth birthday, it was ridiculous to think she needed a minder, Faith had convinced her parents to let her spend the night alone in the house.

She wouldn't be alone, but Blue didn't ever, ever need to know that. Never in her life had she been so excited for her father to go on a run. A whole night with Michael. In a house. In her bed. It wasn't just Connor distracting her from the pool table.

Her father sighed and draped his arm over her shoulders. He grinned down at her. ”No wild party-or just try not to have Joe Law on my porch, okay?”

That was a joke, so she laughed. He knew she didn't have enough friends for even a mellow party, especially if, as he thought, Bethany and Joelle were otherwise occupied. ”I'll make sure to pay off the neighbors.”

”That's Daddy's girl.” He pinched her chin. ”For real, though, kitty cat. You lock up. And I'm gonna send the Prospect by to check in. And you keep in touch. You hear?”

She rolled her eyes. ”Daddy! I'm not a kid!”

”You are my baby girl. Always will be. And I want you safe.”

”Fine.” With a sudden, devilish inspiration, she looked up at her father and smirked. ”Maybe I'll invite Sherlock in for a nightcap.”

Blue didn't see that humor in that, and Faith realized that it was really G.o.dd.a.m.n stupid to joke around so near the truth. His dark eyes narrowed. ”Make another joke like that, and I'll hire you a babysitter right now.”

”Sorry. Everything'll be okay, Daddy. Promise.”

He looked down at her for another second or two, then kissed her cheek and hugged her. ”I know. I trust you, kitty. You're my girl.”

”Hey, Bambi. You should take a look at what you're missing.”

At Connor's snide tone, Faith turned back to the table she'd been ignoring. He'd run it. His solids were gone, and he was setting up the eight ball.

”I'm not scared. You're gonna scratch.”

”c.o.c.ky little s.h.i.+t,” he muttered and took his shot. He didn't scratch. In his celebratory delight, he caught her up and lifted her off the ground. ”Don't cry, Bambi. Better luck next time.”

She stuck her tongue out, and he put her down, still laughing.

Feeling the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kle like she was being watched, she looked over the table and across the room. Michael was staring at her, his cheeks red and blotchy, the way they got when he was mad-or getting there, anyway. When he was really mad, he got a lot more than blotchy. He was jealous. She couldn't figure out how to make him not be.

Also, she kind of liked it.

Michael came to her house that night long past dark. She opened the back door and found him squatting on the patio, letting Sly rub his hand. The cat was purring so loudly he sounded like he had mechanical parts.

Looking up at her, Michael grinned. ”Hey.”

Faith's heart thudded heavily in her chest. A whole night in his arms. No s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g in Dante. It was going to be the best night of her life. ”Hey.” She realized she hadn't heard his bike come up the drive. ”Where's your bike? We should put it in the garage. My dad has Sherlock checking on me.”

”He said. I parked a couple streets over.” Standing, he came to her and put his hand on her cheek. ”You sure this is a good idea?”

”The house is ours tonight. I want to have a normal night with you and feel what it's like to be totally naked and sleep together. It's a perfect idea.”

”Okay. I want that, too. I love you.” Smiling, he brought his other hand up to her face. Holding her the way he so often did, he bent down and kissed her.

”Do you have any clothes in your drawers?”

”Hmm?” Feeling happy and cozy, settled on Michael's chest, tracing her finger along the tattoo over his heart, Faith left her eyes at half-mast. She'd been right. The night before had been the best night ever. To be comfortable and to be able to go slow and feel each other-it was almost like last night was their real first time. Times-plural. She smiled.

They'd only had one weird moment, when she'd tried to go down on him. Of course, she'd never done anything like it before, but she'd wanted to try. His reaction had been nearly violent, shoving her away. She'd thought at first he didn't want her to do it because he didn't think she'd be any good. But it had seemed more like something was going on with him.

He wouldn't talk about it, though, and she didn't push. She wanted everything to be good and happy while they had this chance. They'd gotten past that awkward spell and kept on with their good and happy night.

”There's clothes all over the place. What's in your drawers?”

”More clothes.” She waved lazily around her room. ”That's the stuff I wear most. No point putting it away if I'm just gonna put it on again in a couple of days.”