Whiskey Sharp--Jagged Read online

  “Your mother was up. She’s in fine form. Bossing the dogs around. I got out before she started on me too.” Though he sounded grumpy, Vic knew it was an act. His parents had a real, deep and intense connection. They could fight, that was also true, but they’d drawn closer each time they’d been hit with tragedy as well as when times were good.

  His sister, Evie, had said once that they were spoiled by that example and would never accept anything less than a love like that.

  He agreed. Vic felt settling was for pizza and music when on a road trip. It was definitely not for love.

  While getting his tea, Vic’s father switched the music from Vic’s choice to Stevie Wonder. Vic hid a smile and kept working. His father was the senior member of the staff and the family. He got to make the musical and television choices. This was his edict for all of Vic’s and Evie’s lives.

  “I’m going to ask Rachel Dolan out,” Vic said, forming high, round loaves on the long worktable.

  “You’ll lose your heart to that girl,” his father murmured as he stirred sugar into his tea.

  Surprised and not entirely sure what his dad had meant, Vic said, “I like her. I have for a long time now. But I knew we had to be friends first. She’s not going to do me wrong.”

  His dad grunted a laugh. “Not my worry.” He switched to Russian, which Vic knew was his dad’s emotional language. “She is fragile and yet resilient. That draws you. You are easy to laugh. Easy to lend a hand. But she is not easygoing. She comes with heartache and sadness.”

  “So do I,” Vic said.

  His dad nodded again. “It’s why you two are drawn together. You want to fix things. Make people happy. You always have. Our little sunshine child, your mother says. But here, with your Rachel, you can’t fix what’s broken with her. You have to live with that and so does she.”

  Hard, he understood, to sit by when someone you cared about dealt with the sort of pain Rachel toted around.

  “One step at a time. First dinner and maybe a movie.”

  “Tell me, why now?”

  There wasn’t any judgment in his dad’s tone. His parents liked the Dolan sisters a great deal. But he wanted to understand. Which is why Vic had brought it up, because he knew his dad would give him good advice and a pep talk that might or might not include an actual kick to the seat of his pants.

  Just in case, Vic always kept a safe distance for escape.

  He told his father about the scene he’d witnessed at Rachel’s house just a few days prior. Explained how he’d felt, how much he’d wanted to burn things down to protect her, even as he’d admired her strength and spirit when she stood up for herself and her sister.

  “I just knew I wanted her to be mine. I looked at her and she was hurting and it meant something to me. I wanted to fix it. Assure her she was everything her father told her she wasn’t.” And because she’d let him stay to witness the whole scene, it had also felt like she’d opened the door up into a far closer and more intimate relationship.

  His father glowered. He adored Maybe with all her vibrant color and noise. Every time she came over to his parents’ place, his dad would brighten. They’d already begun to see her as a daughter and had definite opinions about how the Dolans treated their children.

  He stabbed a finger in the air before he put his tea aside and began to work. “I don’t like those people. How they upset their daughters!”

  What’d been revealed during that terrible scene was very private. But he knew Maybe would be all right with him talking to his family about it. He told his father about how Rachel and Maybe’s dad blamed their youngest daughter for being repeatedly sexually propositioned and stalked by one of his coworkers. Told him about how devastated Rachel had been that her sister had been so abused and hurt. The guilt he knew she would never let go because she hadn’t protected Maybe.

  His father cursed a long stream in Russian. Not loud. No, when Pavel Orlov got pissed, he got quiet. He bellowed when he was happy instead.

  Vic merely nodded at his father before continuing. “They want to control Rachel. Take away something she needs to make her dependent on them. If they succeed in taking her freedom, we’ll fight for her. She can’t be caged.” She’d been at the mercy of someone else when she’d been kidnapped and Vic knew she’d break if it happened again.

  “You make sure she gets the papers to protect herself,” his dad told him.

  “She’s supposed to call Seth to get his advice.” Seth was his cousin Cristian’s fiancé. He was a cop with the Seattle Police Department so he had good information and given the way Seth was, he’d walk her through the process. “I’m making her brunch later on today so I’ll make sure she does it then.”

  “You be careful too. The father is dangerous. It would be good if they leave Maybe alone now. It’s Rachel they want. But if they can’t get it...”

  Richie Dolan had a temper. One laced with threat and menace and Vic didn’t like it at all. He was the type of man who probably bumped shoulders with other men to assert some sort of dominance.

  Vic didn’t underestimate that threat. But he damned sure bet Dolan underestimated his children and their resilience.

  “I am. I promise,” Vic assured his dad.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RACHEL STOOD IN her closet, looking at her clothes. Annoyance warred with delight. It’d been a while since she’d dressed up for a man for more than just a few weeks of sex and then moving on. That was easy. A mask, a costume that spelled out the limits and boundaries of the interaction.

  Sexy in a generic sense.

  But Vic wasn’t some dude she’d bounced on a while. He was someone she knew and liked. Someone who came over to her house on a regular basis. A guy who’d seen some of her most private stuff aired out.

  God. She shouldn’t do anything with him. Just stay friends. If they started something and it went bad it would be awkward. And she really liked the Orlovs and his cousin was living in her house, sullying up her sister. Gah!

  So much energy buzzed just under her skin. Had been since she’d gotten out of bed and tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was coming over and making her food and giving her a ride and being all helpful and nurturing and it was really insanely hot and comforting and he was sexy. So sexy and he wanted her. Her!

  “Going off the rails here,” she murmured to herself.

  Of course she was naturally going to try to talk herself out of getting into anything romantic with him. It was dumb and risky, just as she’d reminded herself.

  And of course she was going to do it anyway.

  He made her dizzy and sort of sappy and dumb and really horny. She wanted to see what it would be like. To have something with him, to give the zing a chance. She wanted to let herself feel all this really good stuff.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME he showed up at her door she’d managed to get the eyeliner on both sides into pretty respectable wings and given the goofy look on his face when he checked out her tits, the choice of the snug T-shirt she’d worn over a long-sleeved Henley was a good one.

  “Hi.” He smiled at her, all gorgeous teeth framed by his beard. Sometimes she let her cheek brush it when he hugged her. And she wondered what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of her neck. Or the inside of her thighs.

  Holding up an armful of packages, he thrust a huge bouquet of flowers at her. “I bring food and flowers in tribute.”

  Rachel took them, pausing to breathe in the scent of the pink-tipped cream-toned roses he’d given her.

  “Good morning.” She stepped back to let him come inside, taking a surreptitious sniff of him as he passed.

  Yum.

  She led him into the kitchen, where he began to unpack the haul he’d brought. Trying not to show how giddy she was that he’d brought her such pretty flowers, she made busy with trimming the stems and arranging t
hem in a vase she placed in the center of the kitchen table.

  “Thank you for the roses,” she said, shyness in her belly.

  He turned, approaching her slowly until he’d backed her to the counter, his body shy of touching hers. “You deserve roses.”

  The shyness in her belly turned to butterflies.

  “I do?”

  He nodded and then, shocked her into total stillness as he dipped and slid his lips over hers. Tasting. Sipping.

  He backed up just a little before he got close again, this time sliding his tongue against her lips and into her mouth when she opened on a sigh of pleasure. The heat of him blanketed her, along with his scent, and she had to exercise all her self-control not to rub against him.

  One last kiss, this one with a nip of her bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting a long time,” he murmured, gaze searching hers. Looking for fear? Hesitation?

  She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly, one last time, chasing that query from his eyes.

  “I hope it was worth the wait,” she said, trying to sound saucy.

  He smirked. “It was.”

  She smiled. “Good. I concur. On the being worth the wait, that is. Coffee?”

  “Yes, that’d be great. Omelets okay?” he asked.

  Nodding, she poured them both a large mug, leaving his near where he’d begun to assemble the ingredients for their meal.

  “You know where the milk and sugar are if you want some.” She indicated the sugar bowl.

  “My mother says I’m sweet enough on my own,” he told her.

  Snorting, she rolled her eyes and went back to looking at him, enjoying the tingling left after that kiss.

  “You do pretty well in that department, I must admit.”

  Visibly pleased, he shrugged, not at all bashfully. He was just so damned self-assured. Easy with himself as he moved around her kitchen.

  “I’ve decided we should go on a date. First dates can be weird, even when you already know the person. So I propose this to be our first date so when I take you out, it can be the second date and we don’t need to be nervous. Naturally there’ll be flowers because, as I mentioned, you deserve them.” He nodded as he began to assemble things in a fashion her love of order found very sexy. He poked around in the cabinets until he found what he needed and got about his business.

  She sat back in her chair, utterly charmed. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy and funny? So emotionally well adjusted and stuff? The whole of him was utterly irresistible.

  It’d been hard enough when he was aiming all that charm at others. But over the last several months he’d turned it on her. Making it clear what his intentions were. Even as he never pressed for more than she was comfortable with she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them.

  He’d pushed his sleeves up, exposing ridiculously sexy forearms, and then washed and dried his hands. He stood, giving her his profile, his features exposed because his hair—acres of thick, gorgeous hair, nearly shaved at the sides but long on top—was captured in a ponytail at the back of his head. He usually wore it that way when he worked.

  It should have been douchey or bro-something. It was hot. Slightly messy but that was because he’d been up since four working on that upper body she got a little dizzy when she looked directly at. Like the sun.

  “When you turn on the taps you go all the way, don’t you, pretty boy?”

  “Too much?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t going to agree.

  “It’s impressive.”

  “Impressive is good.” Cocky, he raised a shoulder slightly.

  “That remains to be seen,” she told him, teasing.

  His laugh was one she hadn’t heard from him before. Low and lusty. It made all her hormones stand up and cheer.

  “I’m very competitive. It means I tend to get very focused when I’m trying to hit something out of the park. Get your rest.”

  It was Rachel’s turn to laugh. Flirting with him felt good. And she couldn’t deny the curiosity about just what he’d show her to impress her.

  “Do you want ham or turkey?” He pointed at the cutting board with his knife.

  “Ham is good. Thanks.”

  Silence lived between them for a bit as he cooked, filling the kitchen with some really good scents. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Being with him rarely was.

  “Busy morning at the bakery?” she asked.

  “Even my mother was pleased with the business today. She’s a hard taskmaster and has very high standards when it comes to what she considers a successful day’s take.”

  Rachel laughed. Mrs. Orlov was one of her favorite people. Though small in stature, she was a big presence. Especially within her family. A force to be reckoned with in her community.

  She only hoped to one day live as boldly as her own person as Irena did.

  As he made the food, she hopped down and began to slice thick pieces of bread to be toasted. Pretty much daily throughout the last several years, she’d eaten bread created in the Orlovs’ ovens. It had given her roots. A sense of place in her new life.

  And at least a few more pounds.

  “I brought fresh butter,” he told her, indicating a wax paper–wrapped square on the counter.

  Fresh bread and butter brought to her by a gorgeous man? She must have done something pretty awesome in a past life.

  “I also brought some of the tea I texted you about earlier today. Drink it an hour or so before you want to go to sleep.” He paused. “How are you feeling? Aside from the sleeplessness that is. I haven’t seen you in person since Sunday night.”

  Embarrassment flooded her. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you had to see all that. We invite you over for a meal and then act like assholes.”

  He looked up, anger on his features a moment. “You don’t apologize for that. I told you Sunday. Everything that happened was from your father. Don’t insult me with apologies.” He made a sound. A distinctly Russian thing his whole family tended to do when they got annoyed or impatient. A bah! of a sound.

  It made her smile. She saluted him. “Okay then. I’m feeling tired. Worried, I suppose. But pissed off is the dominant emotion.”

  “Did you call Seth about a protection order?”

  “I called someone else. A friend of a friend. I used to be in law enforcement, remember? I have a meeting with an attorney tomorrow.” Though if Washington was like most other states, getting this order would be difficult because her father hadn’t physically threatened her.

  But if an official body like a court told her father to leave her alone, he would. It would be the underline of authority he’d need to truly back off.

  It hurt to know she was going to take an official step to keep her parents away from her. Hurt to know she had to.

  He’d gone to the stove, the omelet now in a skillet.

  They worked in the kitchen, stepping around one another to complete their tasks and she realized he didn’t evoke the need to step away. She didn’t think about how she’d take him down if he ever tried to hurt her. Not anymore anyway.

  They were alone in her house and he was half a foot taller and she trusted him not to use that against her.

  It made her feel just a little more human, a little more okay every time she was able to take a step back from that dark pit she’d been in for so long. She was more person than wounded animal in a trap.

  * * *

  THE WANT, THE need to put his mouth back on hers rode him hard. She was more than he’d thought even just an hour before.

  Now that he’d tasted her there was no going back. No unknowing. Part of her lived in him now and he liked it.

  He hadn’t planned to kiss her that morning. He’d wanted to wait until their date. But well, she’d been there and looked at him with that fucking gorgeous face. It had been better than he’d imagined it could be. Th
e connection between them sparking to life.

  Sexy. So sexy his skin seemed to buzz just being near her.

  She placed a pitcher of juice on the table, nudging it his way.

  “You’re a good host,” he told her as they sat.

  “You did everything. All I had to provide was a table and some plates. I think I win.” She shook her head as she peppered her food. “And I also have to admit Alexsei is the one who grocery shops most often so I can’t even take credit for the juice.”

  This private Rachel was one he craved. She was open with those closest to her. He loved it when she teased him. Her dry sense of humor had been a delight to discover. And the sexy flirting, a new addition to their interplay, had been a really great surprise.

  “I bumped into Evie at the grocery store yesterday. She showed me pictures for a tattoo she wants,” she told him.

  He withheld—barely—an eye roll. His sister was trendy. She had the latest shoes and clothes and now wanted a tattoo. But she was so picky it had been at least a year since she came up with the idea of getting one and hadn’t pulled the trigger on it because she couldn’t choose.

  “It’s nice that you’re so close with her,” she said.

  “She’s a pain in my ass with shit taste in men.” He shook his head. “But no one makes a cinnamon roll like her so I suppose we’re stuck with each other.” His little sister was the heart of their family. Especially since Danil had died.

  “Little sisters are the best. Don’t tell Maybe I said so. I like to keep her guessing.”

  Vic snorted. “I’m fairly sure your sister already knows you have a soft spot for her.”

  “Someone needs to,” Rachel muttered.

  Vic reached across the table and squeezed her hand, surprising them both. But she smiled, squeezed back and then pulled away.

  “So. Our second date. What should we do? Dinner? Movie? Drinks? All three?” he asked.