Classic (Adrenaline Book 1) (2 page)

Merrick

Madden stares at me from across the booth in my favorite hole in the wall diner, The Box.

Best fucking nachos in the world. Don't order the Special. Never sure what's in it, but definitely sure it's not always dead.

“Did you bring me here to stare into my eyes and whisper sweet nothings or did you wanna talk?” I joke grabbing a French Fry off his plate.

Fries. Get those too.

His large palm runs across his buzzed head, blue eyes full of my least two favorite things. Torment and judgment.

Madden's a great big brother where it counts. Fuck. He's definitely the best out of the bunch, but at 33 he smiles about as often as a soldier in the middle of a war zone. I'm sure he has his reasons, but keeps them to himself. He keeps a lot to himself.

“Rosalyn?”

Just her name causes my face to wince in pain. Sprawling out in the booth with both my arms stretched out across the space behind me, I let my head roll to the side. Immediately my eyes divert to the people passing by on their errand runs.

“She was just a chick, Merrick. Just like any other chick.”

“She was more than that.” I snap turning my head at him. “She was beautiful―”

Madden shakes his hand side to side.

If you saw her, you'd be on my side. I'm tellin' ya.

“She was sexy―”

His hand repeats the action.

“She was―”

“A slut,” he interrupts the beginning of what was going to be an epic speech. After taking a bite of fry he continues, “She was nothing more than another bitch dying to say she slept with one of the McCoy brothers. Let it go, Merrick. Pick your nuts up off the ground and move on. That shit wasn't love little bro'.”

“You ever been in love Madden?” the question slows down his chewing, his large jaw almost frozen in place.

I figure in a few years this is what I'll grow into with a little less of the edge to my look. While Ben and I practically look like twins, Madden and I look like we were without a doubt cut from the same cloth, except I'm smaller in height and build. Our eyes give us away to most people. They say they are almost identical. Same crisp clear color except mine don't contain nearly as much ongoing turmoil as his do. You know, if I was the oldest of 5 who I basically raised, my eyes would probably look like that too. Madden has this permanent look like at any minute he would tear you limb from limb in a rapid rampage. Scary as fuck is putting it mildly. The jagged scar along his jawbone line doesn't help.

“Love? Really Merrick? Are you gonna start quoting me Shakespeare and shit next?” His body slides down in his seat. With a victorious smirk at his sarcasm, I look back out the window. “You weren't in love.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Swear to God he might as well have fucking said 'Because I said so'.

“You got a good piece of pussy. Or so you think. She cut you loose before you did her. That ache isn't love. It's your pride. Suck it the fuck up.”

My eyes scan the crowd admiring a woman with her child in a stroller who's throwing a tantrum before moving onto another woman who is tying her son's shoelaces on the bench.

I don't remember much about my mom, but I wonder if she did those things for my brothers. I wonder if there was anything normal about their childhoods. I know there wasn't about mine.

“You guys need anything else?” The waitress' voice pulls me back to the table.

Looking up at her, I offer her a crooked grin, slightly impressed by the sight that's being exposed down the front of her unbuttoned work shirt.

“We're good,” Madden insists in a harsh enough tone it frightens her away.

Like a deer from a loud noise. How he picks up chicks is beyond me.

The moment she's out of ear shot he shakes his head at me. “Don't even think about it, Merrick. Her dad's a cop.”

My grin widens. “Oh yeah?”

“God you're such a fucking pain.” He shoves his plate towards me.

“Didn't you just tell me to move on?”

He rubs his temple and growls, “Not to a cop's daughter, Merrick.”

“Now you're just bein' picky.”

“I swear to God, Merrick...”

“Why do you give me so much shit?” I grab one of the remaining nachos on my plate. “You never rode Triple D this hard about shit. Especially not who they were or were not fucking. Or if they were or were not in love.”

“They've never been in love. None of us have. None of us ever will. That whole concept is just a bullshit idealistic notion for mindless individuals to grasp onto so they don't feel their lives are as fucking empty as they are.”

Romantic isn't he? Didn't get the wine and dine 'em gene.

“And I expect their bullshit. Look Merrick, unlike Triple D, who grew up in my shadow as much as dad's, I practically raised you. When dad got pinched, I knew right then if I could save any of us it would be you. I've worked my ass off trying to keep your head on straight, grounded, not so fucking callous like the rest of us. I've worked my ass off trying to keep you out of the biz―”

“Yet here I am...”

“Exactly,” he bites. “But that's on me for being a shitty brother and not knowing how to fucking stop you, but I'm gonna get you out. I want you to see there's other shit in this world that's better for you. Not this bullshit love thing you're talking out of your ass about, but...something. Life. I want you to see what life
should
be like. Not what we've made it to be. Something healthier. Happier. And I know you want that. I know that's what you're really after.”

I don't respond. My eyes wander back out the window.

“I know you want more than one night stands and briefcases full of cash. I give you so much shit and grip the back of your neck so fucking tight, so I don't lose you in the process of trying to get you that one fucking thing you want in life. Something worth living for.”

His words settle between us at the same time, my sight lands on a girl who's heading into the clothing store across from the restaurant. Briefly she glances my way and I recognize the look on her face. It's the same one I've seen so many times in the mirror. The second our eyes meet, it feels like someone just jump started my battery. Excited, I sit up and do my best to get another look of the vision that's blurred mine to the rest of the world.

“We gotta go,” Madden groans abruptly. “Knoxie is demanding all hands on deck.”

I open my mouth to argue when the girl disappears inside the store. Disappointed she's gone as quickly as she came, I nod my head in understanding knowing once that girl puts her foot down, that's all there is.

Knoxie's the female version of my brother. When he'll realize that and the fact she's in love with him, is fucking beyond me.

“Let's put in a few good hours at the shop and then Ben can drag your sorry ass to Olympus.” Madden stands up tossing a bill on the table.

“You not comin' tonight?”

He nods. “I'll be late. Business.”

“Do I―”

“Nope.” Sensing an immediate argument he shakes his head. “No Merrick. You drive. That's fucking it. You don't need to know anything else that goes down or when. I'm trying to get you out of this shit, not put you neck deep in it. Now let's go.”

My brother ladies and gentleman. The fucking control freak. As much as I fucking hate it most of the time it's hard to fault him for it. After dad went to jail the final time and it was basically him, he's never hesitated to do what he has to for us, but fuck me, if every once in a while I wanted to make my own choices. In case your memo didn't come in about that, that's rarely an option. Well...that is unless I do something without him knowing. I'm famous for it. How do you think I got into street racing to begin with?

Jovi

“Jovi!” Nadie calls forcing me to turn my attention around. “Come on.”

Giving the handsome stranger who is eating in the window booth across from the store one final glance, I smirk to myself at the idea he was looking back at me and not one of the millions of half-dressed females around me.

Not naïve. Hopeful. Let's call me hopeful. Not that it matters anyway. Guys like that don't come around these parts for girls like me and even if they did, one mention of what my father does or who he is and they're competing for an Olympic Gold Medal in the sprint. Oh well. One more hot face to join the others in my collage of Prince Charmings waiting for me in another lifetime.

Nadie leads us to the formal dress section. As soon as we arrive I flop down in one of the chairs near the dressing room to watch her do the hard work. With my legs stretched out, I lazily fold my hands on my stomach.

After a few minutes of moving dresses around on racks, Nadie gripes, “You know, you could help.”

“I could.” I nod. “And you could go to this stupid ball thing instead of me, but you don't.”

Peering over a rack, she gives me a scowl. “Stop it. You're his daughter.”

“Inmate is more like it.”

“Drama queen,” she whispers.

I heard that! You did too, didn't you?

“Jovi, you're his only child. You should be there at something so important.”

“It stops being important when you turn it into an
annual
event.”

“Jo―”

“Same shit. Every. Year.”

“You didn't used to complain this much about going.”

“I also used to be excited at the idea of staying up past midnight.” Nadie stops her movements again. “I'm not a little girl any more, Nadie. And the sooner dad realizes that the better.”

She briefly flashes her eyes away. “Have you told him about the acceptance letter yet?”

“Nope,” I sigh.

Look, I kept up my end of the deal. He didn't want me to rush away to school because of the woes and dangers or some shit that lurk on every campus across America. We agreed if I went to community college for my basics, I could go to any school I wanted if I got in. Took some persuading, but with Nadie's help he ended up agreeing. I get the feeling he figured if I went to community college and set up a life here, that I would be reluctant to leave it and just go to the university 30 minutes from home instead of the one three states over. Other than Hayli I didn't set up anything to get attached too. And I've been attached to Hayli since she convinced me to eat Play-Doh in Kindergarten.

In a quiet tone I counter, “Did you tell him you sent the check already for my tuition?”

Nadie's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything.

“Exactly...”

“I'll make you a deal. Make this event the least painful for him and I'll help you break the news to him.”

“You were gonna help me anyway.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “Now, you can make this whole thing easier by cooperating and I'll return the favor, or you can keep up the pouty angsty teenager thing you're too old for and I'll make sure breaking the news to your dad makes the torture of this shopping experience look like child's play. Your choice.”

“You're an evil woman...”

“Not evil. Wise.” She tilts her head towards the dresses. “Get to looking.”

Hopping up I relocate so I'm beside her, hands fumbling around what she's already looked through. I slowly push aside the gorgeous dresses in bold colors that would give him a heart attack. Vibrant yellows. Bright reds. Sharp oranges. All the colors look like something out of one of my art books. Out of Da Vinci or Van Gogh painting. Longingly I lift the last one. It's a short electrifying sunset orange halter that ties at the top.

Did I mention it's backless? We're talking stops right above the ass backless. Dad would have a heart attack, but God I would feel gorgeous in this. A little for sale, but gorgeous nonetheless.

“Trying to send your father into an early grave? Because he doesn't need the help.” Nadie invades my thoughts.

“I know...” I let out another sigh. “Hayli and I are going out tonight and I thought maybe...” Shaking my head I shove the dress back on the rack. “It's stupid. Let's keep looking.”

“Wait.” Nadie stops me. “Just a minute ago you were bitching that you weren't a little girl any more. And I know you Jo'. You're itching to get out of here and live your life right?” Reluctantly I nod. “Start now. Call it practice. I know you're stuck in this weird limbo phase of wanting to keep the peace with your father because you think you're all he has left, but whether or not that's true, that isn't your fault. Your dad has chosen to shut out the world for work and vengeance. You didn't. You shut it out to make him happy and it's time you start making you happy too, Jo'.”

Doesn't that sound like motherly advice? See.

“So grab the dress, and we'll find you one for the event tomorrow, as well as devise a plan to tell your dad, his little girl is all grown up...”

I slowly grab the dress back off the rack.

What she's suggesting is a suicide mission. Seriously. What else would you call telling the Police Commissioner that his only daughter, the only piece of his dead wife he has left, is ready to live her own life? Uh-huh. Exactly. Suicide mission. But you know what? It's one that's overdo.