Burn (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2) (12 page)

Ryder laughs. “So at first, everything’s cool, then some stupid asshole makes a lewd gesture towards Quinn with a hotdog—”

“Language, Ryder,” Debra scolds.

“Sorry,” he says.

The kids are enthralled.

“Liam burst up from his seat and threatened him.”

“But then the idiot did it again,” I put in, giggling.

“So Liam vaults his body over the table like a freaking torpedo at the guy.” Ryder stands and does the hand motions.

I look around at the kids grinning ear to ear. “The two of them went rolling across the floor and slammed into Debra’s nice wood hutch.

All eyes go to the polished wood hutch, which is now on the far side of the dining room.

“Yes, we’ve rearranged since then.” Cade takes a bite of potato.

“I don’t know whose bright idea it was, but while those two were fighting, the rest of the kids started slinging handfuls of mac and cheese at each other.” Ryder laughs. “Of course, it didn’t stay just a food fight. Connor grabbed the ketchup bottle and tried dousing me before I hit him with it.” Ryder points accusatorily at me. “And you ran out of the room.”

“To get Cade!” I cry in my defense. “Liam was going to kill the idiot.”

“Always such a kiss-ass.” He smiles affectionately and rolls his eyes. “So Josh must have started feeling jealous that Liam had found a new sparring partner, because his new mission was to get Liam’s attention. He started yanking on his shirt, but when that didn’t work—”

“He hit him over the head with my silver tray.” Debra, who hadn’t been in the room at the time, looks like she’s remembering the damage.

Everybody’s laughing now.

And I find what I’m grateful for: childhood memories that are good, and warm, and funny—even if they do involve people bashing each other over the head with dinnerware. We can look back on those times now and smile, knowing that those crazy incidents are where it all started—our love for each other—even if we didn’t know it at the time. And I’m grateful for the people who gave me those memories.

“Then what happened?” one of the girls asks.

“Liam turned his wrath on Josh. And no one else has ever fought with the unmatched rivalry of Liam Knight and Josh North!” Cade smiles with exasperation, but there’s also love and pride in his eyes.

“WHOA!” the kids all chatter together.

Then a boy exclaims, starry eyed, “Josh ‘The Jackhammer’ North and Liam ‘The Legend’ Knight fought together, right here, when they were our age?”

“Yeah, they did!” Ryder smiles.

“And by the time I got back into the dining room with Cade—”

“They were all knocking the holy-living-hell out of each other,” Cade joins in. “The floor and walls were covered with food.”

“Oh God, you were furious.” Ryder’s gaze floats to Cade, and for a moment he looks like the young teenager he was back then.

“I gave them all buckets and sponges and made them clean everything spotless while I took Debra out shopping so she didn’t have to see it,” explains Cade. “Also made them work off the money to buy her a new silver tray.”

“Man, we all lost every privilege we’d
ever
had for two weeks,” Ryder explains. “No phone, no TV, no Xbox, no nothing!”

“Did it keep you guys from fighting again?” one of the kids asks.

“No. Not at all.” Liam’s voice from the doorway makes me freeze in my seat.

“Hey, man, I was hoping you’d show up!” Ryder gets up and does the one arm embrace with Liam.

“Am I in time for dinner?” he asks.

Chapter Six

2015

Liam

The butterflies in my gut are in full force as I take the seat across from Ryder. He’s sitting next to Quinn, and his proximity to her makes my blood pressure rise. How can I still feel that way after all this time; like she’s still my girl? Like she’s still mine to protect?

“So glad you could join us, Liam,” Debra says kindly and hands me a full plate.

“Thank you, ma’am.” It looks delicious, and eating here at North House usually feels like the closest thing to home I’ve got, but tonight, with Quinn right there, I know the meal will be tasteless.

“They were just telling stories of when you lived here,” one of the teens begins.

I eat here once a week and most of the kids know me. Of course new ones are always coming in.

“Yeah!” another breaks in. “Is it true that you and Josh ‘The Jackhammer’ North used to fight right here when you were kids?”

Ryder looks proud of himself.

“Let’s change the subject,” Debra interrupts.

The kids groan.

She moves the conversation to each kid telling the group what he or she did today. I start out listening and responding, but all too soon, I’m preoccupied with the way the light is caressing Quinn’s hair.

I’m envious of the light and want to sink my fingers into her yellow locks, pull her into me and cover her lips with my mouth so I can swallow every moan I tease from her body.

She’s still so perfect after all these years—tender and vulnerable with a double shot of toughness around the edges. She’s exquisitely beautiful, sweet and polite. Quinn listens to each kid, genuinely caring, and I know she’s still trying to save the world.

For a moment, her eyes meet mine; the flash of blue lasts for only a couple seconds before she lowers them back to her plate, but she blushes.

She blushed!
My heart sings. I can’t help but grin.

A strong hand squeezes my knee. It’s Cade. He doesn’t look at me, but I know what he’s saying. Lay off.

Before I know it, the kids are clearing off the table and getting ready for the evening group.

“Hey, Quinn, have you got anything going on tonight?” Ryder asks.

She makes a pained face. “I have to go to my mother’s house to go through her things before the estate company comes in the morning to take everything.”

“We were going to go with her, but two new kids are coming in about an hour,” Debra tells us.

Cade says, “It’s good timing you boys are here. You two can take her. Make sure she gets back safe.”

Quinn sits next to me as the passenger of my car. Never imagined that would happen in a million fucking years. My brain is acting like an old pinball game on tilt—full of chaos—everything going every which way. Her proximity both infuriates and intoxicates me at the same time.

And then there’s Ryder, who sits in the back seat, spouting off about his bounty hunting business and motorcycle gang and inflating his-holy-self to new heights. Usually I don’t give a shit when he does this—with other girls—but with Quinn it’s bothering me, like bamboo being shoved underneath my fingernails. If he doesn’t shut the fuck up, we’re going to have a serious problem.

I want him to start thinking with his
other head
and ask her questions, so I can know what’s happening in her life without having to ask her myself. I know nothing, and I feel like, if I try talking to her, it’s going to sound like the Spanish Inquisition.

I can’t imagine what’s going on in her mind right now. She hated her mother! Why—
fucking why
—would she have come back for her funeral? And why, in all of hell’s fury, would she want to go to the woman’s house? It makes no sense to me.

Be sensitive
, Talon’s voice seems to say …
Give her space
, Cade tried to say …

I feel anything but sensitive or understanding! I’m furious and jealous and scared as fuck to find out that she’s happy and married and has that family with the white picket-fucking-fence. I’m pissed, and the mercury is rising.

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ASK HER ALREADY, RYDER!
I want to shout.

But nope, we’ve gone over fifteen miles and he still hasn’t stopped.

Do I really want to know? I could just give the ride and walk away. Right?

Right?

Quinn laughs at something Ryder says and I’m ripped inside out.

I know that laugh. I know all of her laughs, all of her facial expressions, all of her body language and signals. She hasn’t changed a bit, not one fucking bit.

The laugh was her I’m-letting-you-think-I’m-listening-but-really-I’m-thinking-of-something-completely-other-than-you laugh.

Is she thinking of me?
Is my presence having any effect on her, like hers is on me?

Here, in the tight enclosed space of the car, she fills my senses: her sweet scent, her soft breath, her heat.

“Dude! You just blew through that red light.” Ryder laughs heartily at my blatant error.

Ha, ha.
I want to step on the brake and watch him slam his face against the back of my seat.

“Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Motherfucker!

“Remember you teaching me to drive?” Her voice cuts through my F7 inner storm of a tornado and drifts over me like a sudden spring breeze.

I remember, and smile in spite of myself. “Of course I do.”

*****

November, 2004

Liam

“No, asshole, I did
not
say I wanted
you
to teach her how to drive! I asked to borrow your fucking car!” I seethe at my cousin Frank.

He’s got the coolest car on motherfucking earth—a sleek, muscled up, classic Ford Mustang—and Quinn loves it.

“My ride, cuz. Take it or leave it.”

“Take it,” I grumble.

Quinn is gorgeous, and every guy in a one hundred mile radius who gets even a glimpse of her knows it.

She, on the other hand, doesn’t.

She doesn’t understand the power she wields—beauty, innocence, kindness—she radiates it, and it’s like a freaking magnet. She’s not a stuck-up bitch, she doesn’t use her prettiness as a weapon to get what she wants—not intentionally anyway—but all the guys I know would bend themselves into a pretzel just to make her smile. Her problem is that, deep down, she still believes people can be nice. Naivety is one of the reasons she needs to be protected.

Especially from guys like Frank.

We’re having a mid-November bonfire party at my cousin’s house. It also just happens to be my sixteenth birthday—November 17
th
—but the douchebag doesn’t care. I thought he’d let me use his car for an hour, instead he’s going to push himself at Quinn—as if he stands a chance.

I took driver’s ed at school last year, since I was fifteen. It sucks Quinn won’t get that opportunity. Frank took me for my driver’s test so I could get my license earlier today, so I guess I should be thankful, but right now I’m just fucking irritated with him.

“He’s being a dick,” I tell Quinn once I make it back through the crowd.

“It was a good idea, Liam.” She shrugs.

It’s my idea to teach her to drive. She needs to know how to use a car; she lives on the streets for Christ’s sake! If she’s ever in danger or in an emergency situation …

“I didn’t say he said no …” I smile.

“Really? I get to drive?” she squeals like I knew she would.

“Happy half-birthday!” I tell her, and she hugs me, full of excitement.

I love that Quinn was born exactly six months after me, on May 17
th
.   

“Come on.”

I take her hand and lead her away from the crowd to Frank and his friends. They’re a few years older than me, so we don’t hang out much. Frank earned the tit car working at a restoration shop in the city. The lead mechanic took a shine to him and gave him an apprenticeship, and now Frank works there full-time. I have to hand it to him; he’s the one who made this car as kick-ass as it is.

“Hey there, Quinn,” Frank says. “Liam says you want to learn to drive. So let’s start.”

This sucks. I’m holding her hand now, but I’m going to have to relinquish her to Frank. We stop at his car, and he tosses the keys to Quinn, who catches them quick. Understanding dawns over her face.

“No way.” She laughs nervously. “I can’t
drive
the Mustang. I don’t know how to drive at all!”

“Yeah, I get it. Liam explained it all.”

“I thought he talked to you about one of the junk cars at your shop,” she argues.

“No way. A girl like you should learn on a car like this,” he says, stroking the smooth finish.

I can’t help but agree. “Just get behind the wheel. You’ll get the hang of it fast.”

Quinn looks to me and I nod my approval. She slides in behind the wheel. I walk over to the passenger seat, pull it forward and climb into the back. Frank slithers into the passenger side.

If he even thinks of touching her, I’m going to punch him so hard he’ll have a free lobotomy.

Quinn sees the seating arrangement. “Liam, I don’t want to do this without you up front with me.”

“It’s Frank’s car. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I told you, you have to learn, and this is the best car to learn in.”

“Thanks, Frank,” she says, but the joy has deflated from her tone.

It probably doesn’t help that she can see me brooding in the rearview mirror.

Frank switches on the XM radio, and Quinn backs out of the parking spot, tearing up the lawn. I have to laugh. It is Frank’s dad’s house after all. But Frank doesn’t seem too fazed as he begins doling out instructions.

We head down a couple dirt roads; Quinn is getting frustrated with how Frank’s telling her how to go about it. He’s no teacher, and she really is no driver. She still stalls the car and grinds the gears too much. Soon, she exhausts Frank’s patience—not only is she not paying him any extra attention, he’s also probably starting to freak out over his drivetrain.

Pretty soon, we’re back at the party.

“Sorry,” Quinn says. “I told you I wasn’t any good.”

“You’ll get it another time,” he tells her, now distracted and looking into the crowd—probably for a piece of ass he can be sure of—it is getting late.

Douchebag. He would have stayed with it all night if she’d been flirting with him or if he thought he had a chance of scoring with her. 

“Don’t drink too much, I have an idea,” I tell her. She doesn’t drink much at all in the first place, but I have to say it anyway.

“You always have an idea.” She gives me a playful shove. “Sorry I was an awful driver.”

“You weren’t awful,” I semi-lie. “You had a lousy instructor.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway, it’s your birthday after all. And
this
is for you.” She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a small black box with a gold bow. “Happy sixteenth birthday.”

I stare at it … dumbfounded. “You got me a gift?”

“Of course! It’s your birthday,” she says with a glowing smile. “Open it!”

Carefully, I take it from her sweet hand, but I know I could stay suspended in this moment with her forever and not care one bit about the box’s content.

My mother and grandparents never once gave me a birthday present. In fact, my birthday had never been celebrated at my house.

“You have to untie the bow,” she says, all sassy.

I untie it and lift the lid to find a rugged wristband made with black braided leather cord strung through a series of black and silver beads and knots.

“Quinn.” I’m fighting all the powerful emotions that are crashing over me, like when the plates of the earth move and crash together deep under the darkest parts of the ocean, causing a tsunami to be unleashed. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I love it.” I’ve been trying to toe the line with her; I don’t want to blow this friendship we have. But I know beyond every doubt that I have crashed into her hard.

“Awesome! Let me put it on you?”

“Alright.” I’m all about her as I hold out my arm and she happily fastens it around my wrist.

“It lies just right! I was worried it might not fit,” she confesses. “I was also worried you wouldn’t like it. And I can’t quite tell by your expression.” She squints up at me dramatically.

We can see each other just fine in the golden glow of the bonfire.

“The band is awesome,” I reassure her while admiring it.

It’s a simple gift … Oh, but it isn’t. It’s so much more to me.

“You look serious. You’re wondering how I got it, aren’t you?” she says. “I didn’t steal it.”