Own the Wind (33 page)

Shy’s mind filled with all things Tabby. This meant it filled really fucking full.

He drew in another deep breath and looked down at the man in the dirt.

Then he declared, “I’m feelin’ creative.”

The vibe in the room shifted, Shy’s head lifted, he looked to Tack and he found him smiling.

* * *

Shy rode hard, his mind blank except for one thing.

Or pairs of them but they were all the same.

All the same.

He hadn’t thought of them for years. They’d been lost a long time. So long, he almost forgot about them.

Tonight, he was getting them back.

He drove his bike up into a driveway he hadn’t seen in years. He didn’t even drive down this street. He got nowhere near this fucking place.

He walked to the door, pressed the doorbell and didn’t let go.

It was late, dark, it had to be well past midnight so he knocked. Loud. Hard. And he didn’t stop.

He saw a light go on in the window high in the door, the locks turned and the door was thrown open.

“Park, son, jeez. What on earth? Are you okay?” his uncle asked and Shy stared at him as saliva filled his mouth.

Then he pushed through him and prowled into the house.

“Park! What the heck?” his uncle yelled after him. “Where are you going?”

Shy took the steps two at a time.

He rounded the flight at the top and stalked down the hall, his uncle still yelling after him.

There she was, in her shapeless nightie, hair ratty from sleep, standing in the door to her bedroom staring at him, pale-faced, eyes wide with surprise.

“Parker, what on earth?” she asked.

“Where are they?” Shy asked back.

“Who?” she queried.

“Not who, what,” Shy clipped and didn’t stop. He pushed right through her, ignoring her startled, strangled screech. “Where are they?”

“What?” she asked, her voice now pitched high.

“Park,” his uncle called, his voice sharp. “Son, what in the hell are you doin’?”

Shy saw the jewelry box on her dresser and went right to it.

“Oh my God!” his aunt cried. “Timmy, he’s going for my jewelry.”

Shy stopped and turned.

“I knew it,” she hissed, her eyes on him as his uncle moved toward him. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?”

“Where are they?” Shy asked.

“Where are what?” she snapped, her tone ugly.

The same shit as always.

Exactly.

“My mother’s earrings.”

Her hand flew to her throat and her face again got pale. His uncle stopped dead two feet away.

“Son?” his uncle called Shy’s attention to him so Shy gave him his attention.

“I am not your son.”

He watched his uncle wince.

His eyes went to his aunt. “Where are they?”

“I… they—” she began to babble but Shy’s uncle cut her off.

“Park, please. Come back at a decent hour. Obviously you have something on your mind. We’ll talk.”

Shy looked back to the man who failed to raise him after his father died. “We are not talking. I’m never fuckin’ seein’ you or that bitch again after I leave. But I’m leavin’ with my mother’s earrings.”

“Although I can see you’re in a
mood,
” his aunt bit out, and Shy looked to her, “and I hate to fly in the face of that mood considering who you are and who you spend your time with, but I have to say that not only is this highly inappropriate, you barging in on your uncle and me in the middle of the night, but also you asking for those earrings.”

“My mother’s earrings,” Shy corrected, and she leaned in.

“
My
earrings,” she sneered, and Shy’s chest started burning.

The bitch wasn’t done.

“Didn’t get much for taking you in, at least I got that.”

Shy stared at her. He then turned to his uncle. “I am not leaving without those earrings.”

“Parker—” his uncle started.

“I’m calling the cops!” his aunt announced loudly.

Shy ignored her and repeated, “I am not…
leaving
… without those earrings.”

He watched his uncle swallow.

Shy kept his eyes pinned to the man. “You give me those earrings, or I swear to fuckin’
Christ
you will not see the end of this.. I will make every fuckin’ day of your life a misery either by makin’ it a misery or makin’ you wonder how I am next gonna make it a misery. You will know every one of my brothers, and you’ll know them well because they will make it a mission to make you, that bitch, and your good-for-nothin’ children miserable. Now you control that fuckin’ woman, get that goddamned phone out of her hand, and give me my mother’s earrings.”

“Ellen, put the phone down,” his uncle said instantly.

“I will not,” she snapped.

“Woman, put the goddamned phone down,” he clipped, shocking the shit out of Shy, who never, not once, heard his uncle speak that way to anybody. Especially not his aunt.

Shy didn’t look at the bitch but he felt the air in the room, already wired, go heavy.

He heard the phone hit the charger then his uncle ordered, “Get Parker his mother’s earrings.”

“Tim, that’s—”

“Don’t,” his uncle whispered. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes glued to his woman, then he went on, “For years, you rode me about this. Give me some goddamned peace. Give Parker some peace. Just give him his mother’s earrings.”

There was silence then movement and a hissed “This is just unbelievable.”

Shy shifted out of her way, not wanting to be anywhere near her.

Moments went by then he felt her standing close.

“Well? Take them,” she snapped.

His eyes moved to her, she looked into them and quailed.

He looked back at his uncle. “I’ll need a bag.”

“Do you want us to wrap up the silver so you can take that too?” she asked snidely.

Shy looked at her again. “I want you, for once, to put away those goddamned fangs, and by that I mean, shut the fuck up.”

“I knew you were a bad seed,” she shot back.

“Like usual, not payin’ a lick of attention,” Shy returned.

“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “Oh. Right. In the circles you run, threatening middle-of-the-night visits are probably mandatory.”

“No, but when they happen, they’re fun,” Shy replied casually.

She snorted.

“Ellen just, please, go get him a bag,” his uncle cut in.

She threw his uncle a look and stomped out.

Shy dropped his eyes to his boots.

“Is there something that prompted this evening’s visit, Parker?” his uncle asked, and Shy looked to him.

“Yes,” he answered.

His uncle waited. Shy was quiet.

The man tried something else, “Landon home safe?”

“Yes,” Shy stated but said no more.

“Well, thank God for that.”

Shy didn’t reply.

His uncle lifted a hand his way. “Son, I—”

“Save it,” Shy bit out and he shut his mouth.

Seconds slid by.

Then his uncle tried again. “Maybe, with your aunt not there, we should find a time to sit down and talk.”

“And maybe that’s never gonna happen,” Shy returned. “Maybe I like it better knowin’ that my brother’s a soldier, a brave man, puttin’ his ass on the line for this country. Maybe I like knowin’ that I got a woman, gettin’ a house, and soon we’re gonna make a family. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that you had not one thing to do with the good that’s in us, the good that came to us, the good we deserve, the good we’re gonna make. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that we had to escape this prison in order to carve out that goodness. Maybe I like knowin’ that your kids don’t give one shit about you because they think you’re as weak as I do, and they only have time for their mother because they know she’ll give them shit they ask for.”

His uncle’s eyes flashed and Shy knew his aim was true.

“Bet those assholes don’t even send birthday cards,” Shy continued.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought on things, you boys gone, and—”

“Don’t care what you thought when we were gone,” Shy interrupted him. “The time for you to think and fuckin’
act
was when we were fuckin’
here
.”

He watched his uncle close his eyes in defeat as he heard his aunt coming back down the hall. Shy moved to the door, stopping and turning to his uncle.

“Last, and best and it isn’t a maybe, it’s a definite. I like knowin’ you’ll finish your life at her side. You deserve that shit. And that’s what it is that anyone gets from her. That’s all she’s got to give. Shit.”

He heard his aunt gasp in affront, turned back to the door as she slid in, careful with her body like being too close to him would rub off criminal vibes and she’d be arrested on the spot.

He reached out a hand, yanked the bag out of hers, opened it, looked inside, and counted boxes.

When he needed to move some to keep count, he reached in, and she snapped, “They’re all there.”

Shy looked at her then to his uncle. “They aren’t, another visit.”

Then, without looking at either of them again, he walked right the fuck out.

* * *

He rode home feeling something he didn’t get, something he hadn’t felt, not once, not in sixteen years.

He realized what it was when he got to Tab’s apartment and saw her electric blue car shining in the streetlamps illuminating the parking lot.

He felt
free
.

The feeling was overpowering, suffusing him, forcing everything else out and allowing him nothing but that.

Feeling free.

Fucking
free
.

He swung off his bike, jogged to the stairs, took them two at a time and turned the handle on the door. He knew by the light coming out the bottom it wouldn’t be locked.

It wasn’t.

He walked in and saw her curled into herself on the couch.

She shot to her feet the instant she saw him. Her eyes on him, her expression concerned, cautious, even scared, she whispered, “Shy.”

He closed the door, turned, locked it, and then turned back to her.

Free.

He was free.

He thought his brothers gave him that, and they did.

At the same time, they didn’t.

True freedom came from Tabby.

He stalked toward her.

“Bedroom,” he growled. “Take your clothes off on your way.”

Her body jerked but other than that she didn’t move.

He rounded the armchair, positioning to herd her to get her on her way to where he wanted her to go, and when he was a foot away, she stumbled then started backing up.

“Bedroom and clothes off, Tabby.”

“Shy, I… what…?” Her head tipped to the side as he rounded her wide and changed her direction, aiming her down the hall. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“You aren’t taking your clothes off.”

She licked her lip and Jesus, he was hanging on by a thread.

“Clothes, Tabby,” he growled, rounding her wide again to move her to the bedroom.

He moved her through the bedroom doorway and she stopped when the backs of her legs hit bed.

Shy stopped too.

She held his gaze.

Then she said, “I love you.”

Only then did she whip her shirt off.

Shy drew in a breath, he closed his eyes, opened them, tossed the bag with his mother’s earrings to the foot of the bed, yanked his own tee off, and then he lunged, taking her to her back in the bed.

He didn’t hesitate to take her mouth.

Then he didn’t hesitate to take her.

He did not waste time getting rid of their clothes and then he used his hands, mouth, tongue, teeth, knees, thighs, everything he had, to take everything he could get.

He didn’t have to take it, she gave it.

He took it anyway.

It didn’t take long before he was ready, she was fucking ready, he knew because she was panting so he yanked her up, moved her, shifted on his knees, slammed her back to the headboard and surged inside.

His dick sheathed in her tight, slick, hot silk. Connected to Tabby.

Fuck, always,
always
, gorgeous.

Her arms and legs rounded him, his hand moved up her side, up her arm, pulling it away from him, finding her hand, and he shoved his thumb in the palm, wrapped his fingers around the back and pressed their hands to the wall.

His eyes were locked to hers and he was moving inside her.

“Just like the first time,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Do you love me, Tabby?”

“Yes,” she again breathed.

“I know you do, baby, fuck, I know you do,” he muttered, then took her mouth, took her cunt, took her there. She cried out her orgasm, driving it down his throat as her pussy convulsed around his dick, then he shoved his face in her neck and groaned his climax against her skin.

He stayed that way, planted deep, his body pressing hers to the headboard, his hand holding hers, her other limbs tight around him, holding her close. He kept his face in her neck, smelling her skin, her hair, and he didn’t say anything.

Slowly, he pulled out, liking the little mew she gave that sounded sweet in his ear as she lost him. He moved back, set her on the bed. Reaching out an arm, he grabbed the bag.

“Shy?” she called but he didn’t answer. He dug into the bag.

He pulled out a box, flipped it open, flipped it closed, and dropped it in the bag. He did this again and again until he found a pair of diamonds.

He gently flung the bag to the nightstand, carefully freed the earrings from the box and flung that aside too.

“Shy?”

“Got earrings in, honey?”

Her head jerked on the pillow, her eyes were curious, confused and cautious, maybe still a little scared but she shook her head.

“Pull your hair back,” he ordered.

She did as he asked as Shy settled on her body, careful to brace on an elbow even as his hands moved to her earlobe. He slid the post through her ear then slid the back on. He moved to the other side and did the same. Then he got up on a forearm on either side of her and looked down, his eyes moving side to side, the diamonds twinkling against her glossy, dark hair.

“Shy, darlin’, talk to me,” she pleaded.

He looked at her. “Those are my mother’s earrings.”