Blood and Sympathy Page 9

  Scratch that. I was an utter basket case. I leaned my head against the seat and soaked up the June sunshine. When the sweet scent of cherries filled the cab, my eyes flew open and I turned toward Jeb. "You smell that?" I asked.

  The arch of his eyebrow and imperceptible shake of his head told me the aroma was only in my mind. "I bathed before I came," he said with a smile.

  I settled back and closed my eyes again. "Must've been my imagination. I could've sworn I smelled cherries."

  "Could just be wishful thinking. I bet you ain't had a decent meal since…" He trailed off and never finished his sentence. We both knew exactly how long it had been.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Claire Copeland

  My ankle wasn't broken, but after seeing the stern look on my dad's face, I wondered if a broken leg might have gained me a little sympathy. Olivia wheeled me to the exit, and the two of them helped me into the backseat of Dad's SUV. Talk about a tension-filled ride home. Dad's eyes never strayed from the road ahead, and Olivia stared out the window, but nobody uttered a single word.

  Dad parked in his usual spot next to the house, even though he could have been considerate and parked closer. "Olivia, run inside and grab that pair of crutches from the hall closet, please."

  "Yes, Daddy," she said. Her eyes caught mine in the reflection of the glass before she pushed open her door and hopped out.

  I felt like I'd swallowed a bucket of wet cement, and it was starting to harden inside of my stomach. My leg bounced up and down, and I wanted to dissolve into vapor and float away on the predawn air.

  When Olivia came out of the house with the crutches in her hands, Dad heaved a heavy sigh and looked over his shoulder at me. His expression was the same face I made that time I drank that chalky shit at the doctor's office. A cross between wanting to puke and wanting to kill someone for making me drink it.

  He climbed from the car and met Olivia on the other side. If I had a tail, I would have tucked it between my legs. The silence was worse than him lighting into me and getting it over with. He held the door while I maneuvered myself up the steps and into the kitchen.

  Olivia brewed a pot of coffee, clicking her fingernails against the stainless steel sink as she stared out the window. Sunday morning tag team--two against one--would begin as soon as they were both armed with caffeine.

  I chewed on a hangnail and gazed up the stairs, wondering how fast I could carry my ass up to my bedroom. On crutches? Not fast enough.

  Dad broke the silence by scraping a chair across the scarred kitchen floor. "Have a seat, Claire."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and did as I was told.

  Olivia poured two cups of coffee and leaned against the counter. "Where is my car?" she asked.

  "It's in the ditch somewhere on the way to Trevor Mills' house," I said while focused on the dried spots of blood on my blue jeans. "Alistair Anderson ran me off the road."

  "How much did you have to drink?" Dad asked.

  "I had maybe two beers, three at the most." I looked him in the eye when I answered. The reason the car went down the ravine had nothing to do with my being drunk or sober, and everything to do with that fucker Alistair.

  "Why didn't you call the sheriff and report it?" He sat forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him.

  I shrugged. "What's the use? It would just be Alistair's word against mine."

  "How bad is my car?" Olivia asked.

  "Olivia, let me handle this, please? You can talk to your sister later," he said, putting an end to the two against one attack.

  She huffed and said, "Fine," before stomping out of the room.

  I knew Olivia was pissed about her car, but it would have been nice if she'd shown me an ounce of sisterly love.

  Apparently my dad was out of questions and ready to hand down my sentencing. "You will get a job this summer. Every dime you earn will go to your sister to help her either repair her car or find a suitable replacement vehicle."

  Okay. I could live with that. I was planning to get a job at the bakery anyway. "Yes, sir."

  "I'm going to speak with Jeb Sayer. You can work at his bait shop. I will see that you get to work each morning, and if I can't pick you up at the end of the day, I'll make sure you have a ride home. You'll get paid once a week and hand that paycheck over to me to put into a bank account for Olivia."

  Fuck me. Was he kidding me right now? Sayer's Bait and Tackle? Handling worms and other assorted live bait all day long? It smelled like dead fish in there and the building was always as hot as an oven inside. "I already told Belle I'd work for her at the bakery," I managed to choke out.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. "Call her and tell her that due to unforeseen circumstances your plans have changed. You'll report to Sayer's Bait and Tackle first thing Monday morning. I'll make sure Jeb gets a stool for you to sit on behind the cash register until you're able to get around without crutches."

  I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, none of them pleasant. Yes, I was eighteen and capable of making my own decisions, but I had to go along with him for the time being. If I got too cocky, I'd be out on my ass and looking for another place to live.

  "Now, call Hensteeth Towing and get your sister's car pulled out of the ditch," he said before leaving me to feel sorry for myself over the shitty hand I'd been dealt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Braden Sayer

  "That's where Claire and her family live," Uncle Jeb pointed out as we drove past.

  I craned my neck to get a good look, but the only things visible were the trees lining a long, rutted lane that disappeared into nothingness. My breath hitched and I nodded. I knew she lived near Uncle Jeb, I just didn't remember how close it was until we were pulling into the marina.

  He reached over and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Come on, let's get you situated."

  I smiled in spite of the niggling feeling that something was wrong. "Sure."

  "Here she is. It ain't much, but you'll have your own place, close enough I can keep an eye on ya, but not too close that I'll be breathing down your neck."

  We had stopped in front of a dilapidated green tin can of a trailer. It was in sad shape, but I didn't care. I was just happy to not have someone watching my every move, scrutinizing everything I did, and keeping track in a file somewhere.

  "No, it's great, Uncle Jeb. Really." Truth was I would have been happy living in a pup tent and sleeping on the hard ground. I unfastened my seat belt and grabbed my box of belongings from the backseat. A friendly looking dog greeted us with a wagging tail.

  "This here's Katie. She's not much of a watchdog, but she's my best friend."

  I tucked the box under one arm and patted Katy on the head. "Hey there, Katie."

  Uncle Jeb grinned and dug in his pants pocket, retrieving the key. "I don't know why I bother to lock it. Locks just keep the honest people out." He chuckled, twisted the key and turned the knob, giving the door a hearty shove with his shoulder. The flimsy thing made a loud scraping sound as it slid inward. "Sticks a little at the bottom. Must be the humidity."

  It didn't feel humid to me, but I smiled and took his word for it. "Maybe it'll keep someone from sneaking in on me while I'm sleeping," I joked. I wasn't too worried about anyone breaking in, seeing as how I didn't have anything worth stealing.

  "Go on and make yourself at home," he said, turning to leave. "I'll be down at the marina if you need me."

  It was the beginning of June. The marina's first big Saturday of the season. I knew he was itching to get to work, and truth be told, I was a little anxious to see the lake myself. "I'll be out in a bit."

  "Take your time, son."

  I dropped the box on the ratty looking sofa. It was olive green, and I wondered if it came with the trailer when it was new. The kitchen was to my right. I leaned against the cabinets and took in my surroundings. You could see from one end to the other, and I could probably spit just a
s far. The bathroom was down a narrow paneled hallway to the right, and the one bedroom was at the end of the hall.

  Even though the quarters were cramped, my heart swelled inside my chest with pride because I was home. Unshed tears burned my eyes and I swallowed hard, trying to keep them from getting loose on me.

  There wasn't a bathtub, just a single shower stall covered with a thick layer of soap scum. The faucet dripped at random intervals, and the basin was covered with rust, as was the toilet bowl. Hanging above the sink was a crooked medicine cabinet with a mirrored door. I stared for a few minutes at my reflection, turning my head this way and that, getting a real good look at myself.

  The bedroom was just big enough for a double bed and nightstand. There were two closets flanking a built-in dresser. Again, the predominant color was green, in one shade or another. There was a tiny window above the bed that did little to light the dark cave-like space. Compared to my cramped room back at WTJDC, this place was a fucking palace.

  Inside the dresser, there were five pairs of blue jeans and a pair of cut-offs. Hanging in the closet, I found five lime green t-shirts. Each had a circular logo with a black "Sayer's Marina and Small Engine Devil's Fork Lake" emblem. There was also a pair of slightly worn black work boots. I changed into my new "uniform" and grabbed the pair of shorts before heading out to find Uncle Jeb.

  The marina where I'd be working was in a large metal pole building with sliding doors across the front and sides. All the doors stood wide open, and a warm breeze blew through as I made my way to the back of the shop. Uncle Jeb was whistling, and the closer I got, the more familiar the tune became. It was "You Are My Sunshine." And the knife in my chest twisted a little as I thought about Claire.

  He sat behind a solid looking wooden desk rifling through some papers. When I stepped into the office, I tripped over something large, and mostly unmovable propped against the door. "Shit, what the hell is that thing?" I asked, frowning.

  He snickered and shook his head. "I can see I've got my work cut out for me."

  My eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

  "That's a boat anchor."

  "I know that, but what'd it come off of? The Titanic?" I asked, taking in the size of the thing.

  "Nah. It's an antique. Reverend Copeland found it at a flea market and gave it to me as a gift. Makes a dandy doorstop." I reached down to pick it up and was shocked by how heavy it was. "It's solid iron. If you look along the side, he had someone custom make a plate with the marina's name stamped on it."

  I sat the anchor back in front of the door and asked, "What do you have for me to do?"

  He stood and put his hands on his hips. "I want you to get your shorts on and go have some fun. Christ, kid, you ain't been out of lockup for more than a few hours. I think you're allowed a day off before you need to worry about earning your keep around here, don't you?"

  I shrugged and said, "I suppose so."

  "Ain't no supposin' to it. Go do something fun for a change, will ya? You can start to work first thing Monday morning." When I didn't move he flapped his hands dismissively and said, "Shoo, go on, git."

  Within minutes, I had changed into a pair of cutoffs and was sitting on the end of the dock with my bare feet dangling over the edge and into the water. The lake hadn't had a chance to warm up much since it was so early in the season, and took some getting used to. The shallows were crystal clear near the shore and tiny fish darted back and forth.

  I leaned back on my arms and let the sun soak into my skin. A tear slid down my cheek, humbling me to my humanity. I wasn't sure what my beliefs were about God, but I thanked the sky just the same.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Brogan Sayer

  Driving the back roads took longer than it would have if we'd taken the highway. It was late afternoon by the time we pulled up behind Aja's house. She lived in a dump; I think it might have been painted yellow at one time. Now it was anybody's guess.

  I took in the scenery and frowned. "What the fuck kind of shithole you live in, Aja?"

  She shot me a glare from hell. "It's cheap."

  "From what I can see, the fuckers should be paying you to live here." I shook my head and got out.

  "Beats sleeping in the car."

  I snorted. "Not by much, it don't."

  "What the fuck ever, Brogan."

  I followed her through the back door into the kitchen. To her credit, she'd fixed the place up kind of cute, and it looked almost livable standing in the cramped but clean room.

  "You hungry?" she asked, raising a thin eyebrow at me.

  I shook my head and went into the living room to check things out. I crossed the room and stared out the front window toward the street. Some grubby looking brats were riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk.

  "Hey babe," I called out.

  She moved behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, brushing her firm titties against my back. "Hmm?" she murmured. Her hot breath on my skin made me forget what the fuck I was even going to ask.

  I let the curtain drop and turned to face her. Half Asian, half Mexican, Aja was one hot bitch even if she was ten years older than me. My eyes dropped to her full lips and my dick strained against my jeans. She lowered her gaze to the obvious bulge in my pants. The way she had me out of my britches so fast, she was a regular fucking magician.

  I stepped out of the tangle of clothes at my feet and growled. Yanking her close, I cupped that firm, round ass with both hands. She wrapped her legs around my hips and rubbed against my throbbing erection. I thought I was going to lose my friggin' mind when she began tugging my ear between her teeth. Aja was experienced and knew what she wanted. She pressed her lips against mine, sucking my tongue into her mouth.

  I pulled back and looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Damn, woman, you better stop trying to swallow my tongue that way." I said breathlessly.

  She smiled wickedly and dropped her feet to the carpet. She didn't say anything as she took my hand and tugged me toward the back of the house. I yanked the bottom of my t-shirt up over my head, never losing sight of the way her narrow hips swayed as she strutted in front of me.

  Aja didn't waste any time getting undressed, and my hand gravitated toward my rock hard shaft. Sure, I was an expert at pleasing myself, but I'd been locked up since I was twelve years old, and I had no idea how to please a woman. I pushed her down on the bed, ready to bury myself inside of her. She scowled and put her hand on my chest, keeping me from doing just that. "Whoa, wait a minute there, big guy," she said. "You need to hold your horses and make sure your woman's ready before you go diving in."

  My face heated and I rolled onto my back. "Why don't you show me what to do, then? Some of us ain't been around as much as others." My words had more bite to them than I'd intended. I was one horny bastard about two strokes from squirting all over her pretty burgundy velvet comforter.

  If my tone turned her off, she didn't let on. She faced away from me and straddled my thighs. Leaning forward she gave me a million dollar view. She was shaved bare, except for a tiny tuft of silky dark hair. She took my hand and moved it between her legs. I pressed my fingers against her wetness. I slid my middle finger inside and started moving it in and out. She was already so slippery, wet and hot.

  She moaned and writhed against me.

  I guess she was getting off, but I needed a little reciprocation. Do unto others and all, but I was a selfish fucker and I needed to blow my wad in the worst way. I pulled my finger out and grabbed her hard by the hips. She didn't protest when I lifted her up and impaled her with my thick shaft. I think I nearly passed out from the pleasure, my vision went fuzzy at the edges.

  She threw back her head and rode me like there was no tomorrow. When she let out this cute little whimper, I was a goner. I don't know how long we stayed there like that before she climbed off of me. "I'm going to go clean up."

  I grunted something unintelligible and closed my eyes. I must've dozed off, because when I woke up,
the room was dark and there was a breeze blowing the window blinds back and forth.

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. Aja was lying beside me, snoring softly. I nudged her. "Hey, wake up."

  Her forehead creased and she rolled away from me. "No."

  "Come on, Aja. I want you to teach me how to drive."

  "I will tomorrow."

  I slapped her bare ass and grinned as her skin took on a rosy hue, the shape of my hand. "Now."

  She shot me a dirty look over her shoulder and sighed. "Patience isn't one of your strong suits, is it?"

  "Fuck no. I'll sleep when I'm dead," I said, resisting the urge to smack her ass again. "Come on. Chop, chop."

  I hopped off the bed and went to find my clothes.

  We were in the parking lot about twenty minutes later. I was nervous getting behind the wheel for the first time. At least with sex, even doing it wrong felt good.

  Aja giggled and I glared. "I'm glad you think this is so funny."

  "It's hysterical, Brogan. You look scared enough to piss your pants."

  "Ha-friggin-ha. Shut up, woman, or I'll take you over my knee and spank you until your ass is the color of that stop sign over there," I said, nodding in the direction of the street. "Now what do I do?"

  "Um, start the car?"

  "Smart aleck," I muttered, putting the key in the ignition and turning.

  "Okay, now make sure you adjust the mirrors and fasten your seat belt. Safety first." She was having way too much fun at my expense.

  "Got it. Now what?"

  "Put your foot on the brake pedal and move the gearshift to D. Let your foot off the brake and press down on the gas. Nice and slow." She pointed toward a dumpster sitting at the end of the alley. "Drive down to there."

  Easy for her to say. My fingers gripped the steering wheel and my knuckles turned white as I proceeded to inch forward.