Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3) Page 3

  Cherry moved to Cortelana, who stood regal in a bejeweled tuxedo. Enough sparkles and feathers to put on a show shone under the dimmed spotlights hanging from the girders. Declan had put gold and pink filters on all the lights so it bathed everyone in a glow that mirrored the happy energy filling the room.

  Huge flowers hung from the ceiling, giving it an air of part circus, part elegant British tea, and the tables were draped in blue and gold bunting, giving it a regal but festive air. Boisterous jazz music filled the room, and no one could seem to stand still.

  Little feathers in Sally Mae’s vintage pillbox fluttered as Aspen swung her in time with the music. Rachel bounced little Nicolas on her hip as he giggled and waved his chubby arms in the air.

  Maybe she would let Luna hold baby Nicolas again. She’d held him all through dinner—a big, squishy bundle in a little man suit. Luna reluctantly handed him back to his mother when he started to fuss and Rachel asked for him back. She could have held the baby all day if Rachel had wanted—crying or not.

  Across the room, Phee’s assistant, Naomi, a former stripper her sister rescued from Maxim’s last year, talked with Nathan’s young daughter, Madeline. The young girl, dressed in head-to-toe pink, hung on every word from Naomi, who was probably selling her on dance classes at Phee’s school. Not a bad idea given Madeline visited her father and Starr often.

  Luna’s eyes searched the room for Phoenix. Her heartbeat danced a little at seeing her banded tightly to Declan in a morning suit, complete with matching cane. Of course, he was never far from her sister, and that fact quieted things in her.

  Phee’s eyes still cast doubt toward him now and again as if she couldn’t realize a true gentleman—and Declan was one of the best—could possibly have chosen her to give his heart to.

  Her sisters deserved all the happiness the world had to offer—even if it meant they were embarking on lives without her. At least they danced together now and again, though it was far less than even last year.

  Phoenix was busy with her own dance school next door. Starr couldn’t stop talking about starting a family. As for Luna? She was happy where she was—mostly. At least when she wasn’t having Carragh MacKenna’s presence cutting into her peace. Damn him for showing up today of all days.

  A tumbler with brown liquid—attached to a huge hand and even larger forearm—swirled in her vision. The ice clinked as Max shook it.

  Luna twisted to face him. “Thanks. But you know I don’t drink.”

  “You look like today would be a good time to start.”

  Had her face registered that last thought about Carragh? “What the hell.” She took it and sniffed.

  He laughed. “It’s rum and Diet Coke. Thought you might like it.”

  She took a sip. “Mmm, sweet.”

  “Like you.”

  Uh-oh. “Thanks, Max. I’m going to go check on Starr. It’s almost time.” Time for Starr and Nathan to head on their honeymoon and time for her to make an exit before Max, clearly under the influence, made an unwise move. For years she thought he was just being nice, not really interested in her.

  He had such a sweet heart under all those tattoos and brawn. But he’d be happy with her off-stage and tucked away in some small row house where they’d live a quiet life, unlike another man with piercing blue eyes.

  She quickly sidled up to Phee. “Think putting her on a boat is a good idea?” She lifted her chin toward Starr, who was being carried off stage by Nathan, white fabric nearly engulfing his legs. Only Starr would want to honeymoon on a sailboat.

  Phee laughed. “Nathan will put a life preserver on every limb, though given that dress? It could drown a Navy SEAL.”

  “Let’s go get her changed before we test that theory.”

  Declan gave her a peck on the cheek. “Go. I’ll attend to the masses.”

  Her sister flushed from head to toe. He was the only man in the world who could elicit such a reaction from Phee.

  They managed to get Starr unhooked from Nathan’s arms and to the dressing room. They walked in on Sally holding a white knit dress with a faux fur collar. Cherry had a steamer wand in her hand. She must have found a winkle threatening to rise.

  “What?” Cherry demanded. “She has to look perfect for her exit.”

  “Yes, I do.” Starr swept her arms and then caught the flash of her diamond wedding ring in her periphery. She brought her hand back down, wistfully contemplated the ring. “Wow. I’m really Midnight Starr Baldwin now.”

  “She’s just now getting this?” Phee asked Luna.

  She eased Starr down to the stool, which disappeared under the billow of crystal-encrusted white tulle. “You are Catarina Baldwin. And Midnight Starr.”

  “I’m all of it now.” She peered up at them with dreamy eyes, then slapped her lap in a muffled rustle. “Okay, get me out of this thing and put me in something sexier. I want him trying to rip my clothes off the second he sees me.”

  “Like that’s any different from any other day?” Phee laughed.

  “But no more storeroom shenanigans,” Luna added. Starr and Nathan had a penchant for disappearing during his breaks and were once caught in flagrante delicto by Trick, the club’s manager.

  With some difficulty, they managed to get her wedding dress unhooked and slithered off Starr. Getting her into the knit dress was far easier.

  They returned to the front of the club where Nathan grasped Starr’s hand immediately, a huge grin lighting up his face. As soon as they stepped outside, they were pelted with rose petals and bird seed from the guests who’d gathered in the misty afternoon. It didn’t stop Starr from hugging everyone goodbye at least twice, her low heels crunching on the layer of seeds littering the walkway. Eventually, Nathan lifted her off her feet into his arms and headed toward the car.

  “Wait!” Starr waved her bouquet of white roses, delphinium, and eucalyptus over his shoulder. “I have to throw it.” She then threw it with a force worthy of the Orioles lead pitcher—right at Phee, who gasped when the bouquet landed in her arms.

  Rose petals and the smaller delphinium petals peppered the sidewalk next as Phee just stared at it like she couldn’t understand what it was. Declan grinned widely but wisely didn’t drop onto one knee to propose right then and there.

  Luna knew someday Phee would capitulate to marriage, and Declan was anything but impatient.

  As Starr and Nathan’s car drove away, the Just Married sign that Madeline had decorated, complete with blue sparkles, flapped in the wind, and a few of the guests jogged behind, clapping and whooping.

  Phee looped her arm into Luna’s, the bouquet dropped by her side. “Wow. It really happened.” She glanced at Luna. Her eyes were rimmed in red.

  “It did.”

  “It’s one week,” Cherry waved her champagne glass. “And y’all will be at each other’s houses every other night like you always are.”

  “You’re just saying all that so you won’t cry.” Phee bumped her with the flowers.

  Cherry gently took the bouquet, probably to save it from losing any more blooms. She brought the flowers to her nose. “It took me two hours for this face, I’m not about to ruin it now.”

  Still, Luna had seen plenty of tears welling in Cherry’s eyes at the church.

  “I’ll mist the bouquet so it doesn’t wilt anymore. And two words for you…” Cherry waggled her finger in the air. “…waterproof lashes. I learned my lessons with you three years ago.”

  The three of them had been through a lot—and Cherry had always been by their side. She hadn’t had it easy, either. Being turned out by your family for her gender fluidity? They had no idea who they were missing. Cherry was one of the most beautiful humans to grace this planet.

  Declan sidled up to Phee. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Luna said. “You two go. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

  “No need. That’s what the catering staff is for. We’re closed tomorrow, so you should probably go out with Max and the rest of the dancers. I
hear there’s an after-party brewing.” Declan winked at her.

  “I may be a little partied out.”

  Phee turned to her. “You sure you’re going to be okay? Declan and I don’t have to go to the cabin, you know.”

  No.” She hugged her sister. “Go. Have a great rest of the weekend. I’m fine.”

  She nodded once and turned back to go retrieve her things. From the shelter of the awning, Luna looked out at the mist still falling and their friends laughing and smiling as they strode to their cars.

  Declan stood with her. He rocked onto his cane. “See Carragh today?”

  “Cherry told you.” Because of course, she had. Overprotective as ever.

  “She didn’t need to. I’ve seen him hovering around. You see him today?”

  She shrugged. She so did not want to get into this conversation today. “Told him to stay away.”

  “Good. He’s dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Declan. He’d never hurt me.” She didn’t know how she knew that, but she was certain of her safety around him. He was no threat to her—except her virtue, sanity, and body.

  “You can’t ask me to stop worrying.” He inclined his head to the club. “Come on. We’ll give you a lift home.”

  “I’ve got my car.”

  His brow furrowed.

  She ran her hand down his arm. “I’m fine. Just going to stand here and get some air. Go inside.”

  “I’ll send Max to wait with you.”

  “No,” she said quickly. She didn’t need a bodyguard and she certainly didn’t need Max getting any wrong ideas. “Just need a minute to think.” She winked at him.

  He finally got the hint, and as soon as the etched glass door swung closed behind him, an urge to move her limbs overtook her. A stand had been set out, stocked with mismatched umbrellas. Declan thought of everything. She grasped one and clicked it open. A walk would do her good.

  To think once Shakedown was the only place worth visiting in this section of town. Since Declan had opened the club, however, this whole stretch of waterfront had become sort of an entertainment district. Henry’s Jazz Cafe down the street, Phee’s dance studio next door, and a few other entertainment venues that’d opened recently made it feel safer than the old, long stretch of abandoned warehouses from years ago.

  Today, the street was quiet as most of the entertainment venues only opened at night. It’d be buzzing with cars and people soon enough.

  For now, she’d just enjoy the relative stillness, and before she knew it, she’d walked two blocks.

  Henry’s Jazz Cafe was dark. Sooty marks still marred the side of the building where a fire had tried to take down the whole place last year. Trash had piled up near the side wall.

  Across the street, graffiti—big arcs of red and white paint in strange symbols—marred the warehouse. Funny how she never felt unsafe here despite the low-rent vibe.

  Her heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. “Damn it.” She should have changed shoes. Her toes had begun to pinch, too.

  Her coat hemline lashed her legs as she took long strides up the familiar street. She rubbed her arms together. Her thin trench coat was no match for the February weather. Turning around, however, wasn’t an option. Her head was too… full.

  Surely, the air would clear her mind, work out some of the odd melancholy that had risen up in her chest. A chapter of her and her sisters’ lives were closing and she was helpless to stop it. That fact made her ordinary. It happened to everyone, right? Still, her stomach would not settle as if she’d boarded some proverbial roller-coaster with no idea when the next turn or hill would send her careening around her seat.

  Her thoughts began to drift—a jumble of images more than anything. Her father shrunken in a wheelchair. Starr’s radiant face as she proclaimed—rather loudly—“I do” today. Then icy blue eyes that she may never have to look at again. She just wasn’t sure she was happy about that last one.

  But life changes on a dime, isn’t that what everyone said?

  Really, she should have been more prepared for an emotional day. Starr getting married was a huge milestone in their lives. She just thought she’d have more control over her reaction.

  She rubbed her sternum and the ache that had settled just under it.

  “Get a grip,” she said aloud. She needed to focus more on the bright side of things. Her sisters were happy. She had a good job that she loved. She had a family. Soon, she ceased to see the gray sky overhead or the wind that picked up a notch.

  Perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice when the car started following her. By the time she did, it was too late.

  5

  Carragh stood in front of his father’s desk. His father hadn’t looked up from the ledger he studied since Carragh had arrived. Sean plopped himself down on the small leather couch to the side but Carragh had no intention of staying longer than necessary.

  “Well?” The man still hadn’t glanced up.

  Sean leaned forward, elbows to knees. “We discussed it and—”

  “Did I ask you?”

  Sean gave Carragh a half-smile and sank back in the seat. His cousin, familiar with his uncle’s drill, had learned to shrug off Tomas’ curt nature long ago.

  Tomas tapped a pen against the paper he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze from. “You didn’t do what I asked.”

  No question. Just a statement of fact because they both knew Carragh had damned well belayed his over-the-top orders. Sending Declan a scare message—during a wedding, to boot—was a move made by a man having a temper tantrum.

  “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself.” His father looked up. One eye twitched. The man was having one of his legendary migraines. Good.

  “Feel free.”

  Tomas’ lips inched up and he chuffed. “Sit, Carragh. Say what’s on your mind. Then we’ll eat.”

  “Not hungry.” Tomas didn’t summon him here for a friendly family lunch. His true motivation would eventually reveal itself.

  “A shame. Mary cooked pulled beef.”

  “Where were you today?” The anniversary of his wife’s death at least deserved a graveside visit.

  “I’d ask the same of you. You didn’t just go to your mother’s gravesite, did you?”

  His father scrutinized him, but he wouldn’t find anything on his face. Carragh had schooled out his facial reactions years ago. “You know damned well.”

  “Yes, your proclivity for certain redheads hasn’t waned.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  The man’s chair squeaked a little as he leaned back. “Your choice in women is important.”

  Ah, so they were playing this game today. “Didn’t think you cared who I fucked.”

  That got a flinch out of him.

  The man’s lips thinned. “Choosing a mate is the single most critical decision of your life.”

  “Is that what you thought when you married my mother?”

  It was a marriage of convenience. That much Carragh knew. “Your mother was a good wife.” His chair thunked upright.

  “That why you didn’t bother to go see her today?”

  He slammed his fist down. “You know nothing.”

  “Maybe because you don’t tell me anything.” Carragh never knew exactly what happened that fateful day her life ended.

  “As you don’t. Like why you would jeopardize our family—”

  “Jeopardize? You mean like taking out your own kin, Declan?”

  “I have never suggested such a thing.” He eyed Carragh’s chest. Thought he was wired? He wished he was. But what would that do? Only put him on the outs with the other families. The man had loyalties built—even if they were, at best, tenuous.

  His father rounded the desk and stopped just in front of him.

  For a long minute, they eyed one another until the sound of Sean’s jeans sliding on the leather as he moved forward filled the air. As if he was readying himself to jump between them, perhaps. The only question was who he’d protect
. Despite Sean’s declaration in the cemetery, Carragh knew better than to trust words.

  “If I can’t count on you, then…” His father lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug.

  “Then what? I never said you couldn’t, but I have my own ways of doing things.”

  “Yes, your independent streak has been showing itself lately. But if you don’t have your family’s back, then you’re not a man. We take care of our own.”

  Interesting that he considered harassing Declan, his nephew, care. Then there was the matter of his other son, Ruark, who went rogue and was now persona non grata with their father.

  “And Ruark?”

  The man broke eye contact and sighed. “Even him.” His father eventually came around and agreed to foot the guy’s medical bills even if he said Ruark would never darken his door again.

  Tomas stretched, strode to the door, and opened it. “Come on. Mary’s got it ready for us.”

  In the end, Carragh would sit at his father’s table. Eat pulled beef like nothing’s happening on the streets, like they were one big happy family.

  Family. It’d shrunk over the years.

  First, his mother’s chair stood absent. Then his youngest brother’s, Daniel, who they lost to some stupid fight. Then, Ruark, who’d gone mad with revenge, landed himself in a mental institution. Cousins had drifted away. And Declan? The long-lost cousin hidden from Tomas all those years? Now he was in plain sight and refused to join the family fold.

  They played the family game anyway.

  As his father poured red wine into goblets, Mary, their long-time housekeeper, fussed around Sean and Carragh, dishing out three times the amount any human should eat in one sitting of roasted potatoes with parsley, pulled beef, green beans with walnuts, and baked yams. Too bad his conversation with his father had everything sit like dust on his tongue.

  “Mary,” Tomas waved his hand over the spoon she held out with another helping of potatoes. “I’m about to burst.”

  “Well, just make sure you leave room for my cherry pie. It’s almost done. I should go check.” She scooted out.

  “Take your time.”

  Mary nodded once. She understood the order—“We’ll call you when we need you, but don’t enter otherwise.” His father didn’t make suggestions.