His Guilt: A Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 6) Read online

  Sooner or later, I’d hear from Marcos, and I’d know one way or the other whether Jerrel was being truthful. If I didn’t hear from him within a few days, I’d put in a call to him on my own, so I’d know one way or the other.

  Once I talked to the boss, I’d be in a better position to figure out a game plan.

  Until I had more information, I couldn’t do much about either Jerrel or Marcos.

  That suited me just fine.

  Thoughts of Briar pervaded my mind, and even when I tried to consider Jerrel or the matter of Marcos, I could only focus for a few minutes before she once more drowned out everything else.

  I’d come awake with the echo of her voice in my ears.

  They wouldn’t ever set out to hurt somebody they loved.

  Now, lying there in the bed and staring at a water-stained ceiling, shame rolled over me as I remembered my response to her. Who said anything about love?

  She’d flinched, and her face had turned so red, humiliation creeping into her eyes.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I lay there on the lumpy, thin mattress and mentally kicked my own ass. If I could turn back the clock by even a day, eighteen hours, I’d undo those few minutes, no matter what it cost me. But that sort of wishful thinking wouldn’t accomplish anything, and I knew it, so after a few minutes, I sat up, ignoring the protests from a tired, sore body.

  I could smell greasy food cooking somewhere close. I had some vague recollection of a diner across the street, and although my belly rumbled, I knew I wouldn’t be getting anything from that particular diner. The smell of dirty oil was enough to turn my stomach.

  The roiling of my stomach made my head hurt even more.

  I shoved the heels of my hands against my eye sockets in a futile attempt to drive back the pounding cacophony inside my skull. It didn’t relent. Giving up, I trudged over to the in-room coffee maker and set about making what I knew would be shitty coffee. The quality didn’t matter. It was caffeine, and that was all that mattered.

  As it brewed, I trudged into the bathroom and climbed into the shower. I’d slept naked so at least I didn’t have to deal with clothes as the headache from hell sank claws into my brain matter.

  Thoughts of Briar encroached yet again, and I shoved them into a dark, hidden place.

  I had to figure a way out of this mess—for her. She hadn’t asked to get involved in any of this. I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her alone when it was possible Jerrel might try to move in on her. I knew I needed to be concerned about Marcos, but Marcos was under harsh scrutiny at the moment, and he wouldn’t take any direct action toward any of the Downings.

  Jerrel was the wild card here, and he’d be the one to go after Briar.

  Part of it was because he knew it would get to me. I had no illusions about that. For Marcos, she was just an objective. He had a mean streak, and I knew that better than anybody, but it wasn’t personal to him, not when it came to Briar.

  But with Jerrel, it was a different story. His mean streak was even bigger than Marcos’s, and it was personal for him. He was doing it because I’d kicked his ass and humiliated him. Not once, but twice. His pride wouldn’t let that stand.

  If I was going to protect her from either of them, I had to be close.

  She wouldn’t let me near her unless I fixed things between us.

  I didn’t even know where to begin with that.

  I dried off, my brain spinning in dizzying circles that wouldn’t give up.

  My thoughts shifted to Jerrel, maybe in an attempt to avoid the harder problem of Briar. I wanted to find him, pummel him until he was a broken, useless sack of bones. And I knew I would. If I got close to him anytime soon, I’d do it. I’d break him, bloody him, and I might not stop until he was sprawled lifeless in a pool of his own vomit, piss, and blood.

  I actually wanted him to hurt. I’d never had any qualms causing pain, but it hadn’t been some burning drive. Not like this.

  It was gut-deep and personal, so personal that I knew I’d better not go near him just yet.

  Getting arrested for murder wouldn’t do jackshit to protect Briar.

  After I downed two cups of shitty coffee, I left the cheap motel, lingering just long enough to dump the key at the front desk. A few miles away, I found a place to get some breakfast.

  I knew Marcos was a bastard of the first degree, but he also tended to honor his obligations. Men who lived his kind of life usually did. It was just more efficient. If you screwed over the people who worked for you, word eventually got around, and it got pretty damn hard to recruit new people if they knew they were likely to end up with a knife in their back.

  Every now and then, it worked in one’s favor to be ruthless and lethal—a healthy amount of fear went far when living a certain sort of lifestyle. But doing it on a regular basis was just stupid.

  Marcos wasn’t stupid.

  He’d only just give me the go-ahead when it came to Briar.

  Would he really just up and change his mind in the span of a day and not update me on things?

  Deciding to go with my gut, once I paid the tab for my meal, I got back into my car and headed for the tattoo shop.

  I had a minor concern that Jerrel might come in, but he had a specific schedule that he worked, and other than those days, he never showed up.

  He wasn’t likely to be there today.

  If he did show, then it might come down to whether I could control my temper. But I did need to go in. How Rudy reacted would tell me what I needed to know about issues with Marcos.

  It was still early when I pulled into a parking spot. Nobody else had arrived, and the place was still locked up tight, so I used my key to let myself in. After turning on the lights, I went about setting up for the day. Rudy came in just as I finished, and he gave me a bleary-eyed look then grunted out a greeting before disappearing down the hall.

  I settled down on my stool, satisfied. If Marcos really had cut me out, Rudy would know, and he’d kick me out on my ass. Jerrel could very well be blowing smoke up my ass.

  That settled my mind a fair amount, and some of the tension drained out of me.

  A quick look at the clock told me that the shop wouldn’t open for a little while. I had a good thirty minutes, so I settled down on the stool, one booted foot braced on a wooden rung and my back against the wall.

  Pulling out my phone, I got to work.

  It took some searching to find the name of the flower shop I’d used last time, but I lucked out once I dug it up and the girl who’d handled the bouquet was the one who answered the phone.

  It only took a little bit of prodding to refresh her memory, and she laughed when I told her I needed another flower order.

  “What, man? You already screwed up again? You’re not a fast learner, are you?”

  To my disgust, I felt blood rushing up to my cheeks. I was damn glad nobody had arrived at the shop yet. “You going to help me or give me grief?”

  “I can do both,” she said happily. “So how bad did you step in it this time?”

  “Shit. Your grandpa know you hassle customers this bad?”

  “Only the guys like you.” She sounded unconcerned. “He was the one to tell me that guys like you are the bread and butter for us. Oh, and funeral orders. But I’d be a total shit to razz somebody placing an order for a funeral, now wouldn’t I?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, she really liked what you did last time. Can you do something like that?”

  “The last time?” She sounded outraged, like I’d called her grandpa something vile. “I never repeat my works of art. Now help me out. Did you screw up worse than last time? Or not as bad?”

  Groaning, I confessed. “It was worse.”

  “Man, you really aren’t a fast learner, are you?” She sighed. “Okay, I can fix you up. You said she liked what she got last time. I can work with that. Just leave it to me. Now, are we delivering this or are you picking it up? There is a delivery charge.”

  Mercena
ry little thing. “You can deliver it.”

  “Okay.” She mumbled under her breath, then asked, “And when you want her to get this? Today? Tomorrow? If it’s today, there’s a rush charge.”

  “Shit, is there anything that doesn’t have an extra charge?”

  “Yeah. I don’t charge you for being grouchy. So, there’s that. So…today? Tomorrow?”

  “Today.” I glanced at the address I’d scrawled on the notepad next to the cash register. “Here’s the address. It needs to be there by two-thirty. She gets off at three.”

  “Gotcha. Want a card?”

  I brooded, then shooting a quick look around the still-silent tattoo shop, I told her yes, and what I wanted on the card.

  “Whew, boy. That possessiveness thing can be a real turnoff, you know,” she offered once I was finished.

  I looked at the phone for a long moment, not sure if I was annoyed with her or amused. “You don’t say. Okay, what else do you need?”

  “Budget. My favorite part.”

  I’d already thought this through. “Two hundred fifty dollars.”

  “Wow.” She let out a low whistle. “You really must have screwed up this time.”

  “I appreciate you pointing that out, sweetheart. I really do.” I gave her the payment information and then hung up.

  It was just in time too, because just after I ended the call, Rudy came in from the back, followed by two of the tattoo artists.

  It was time for the day to get started.

  Seven

  Briar

  I actually slept surprisingly well. I’d fallen asleep in the corner of the couch, and at some point during the night, Anneke must have come in and covered me with a blanket. She’d also left a pillow on the couch for me.

  I didn’t remember her doing either, but I did remember waking up and stumbling to the bathroom. When I stumbled back out, I immediately stretched out and all but wrapped myself in the blanket, burying my face in the pillow.

  After that, I remembered nothing until Anneke woke me just before six.

  My mind still hazy with sleep, I pushed upright and accepted her offering of coffee. “It’s too early.”

  “It’s always too early for you until you’ve had coffee,” she told me.

  “True.” I took a sip, then one more, relishing the warmth.

  “Here.”

  Anneke held out her hand, palm extended.

  She had a key in her hand. Slowly, I accepted it.

  “You can lock up when you go,” she told me. “Keep the key, in case you ever need a place to crash.” She shrugged and looked around. “It’s not much, but if you need to get away…”

  Emotion burned in my eyes at her generosity and caring. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and rose. “I’ve got to get going. The drive to Green Valley is a bitch.” She gave me a quick hug. “You know where the bathroom is. If you need to borrow any of my stuff, go ahead.”

  She grabbed her coat and swung it on, waving at me from the door.

  She was gone a moment later.

  I took a few more minutes to relish the coffee, then taking Anneke at her word, I ducked into the small shower and washed up. I emerged feeling a little more alert, although not by much. There was enough coffee in the pot for one more cup, and I practically scalded my tongue hurrying my way through it so I wouldn’t be late for work.

  I skipped breakfast. Not just because I didn’t have time, but because I had no desire to eat.

  Taking care to lock up behind me, I trudged through the damp, wet snow and climbed into my car. Less than an inch covered the roads, and I knew even that would be gone on the main thoroughfares. But it would be enough to make the commute all sorts of fun.

  “Welcome to winter,” I mumbled to myself.

  I turned on the radio and blasted it. There wasn’t anything I particularly wanted to listen to, but I hoped the noise would be enough to drown out my own thoughts.

  Particularly, thoughts of Cormac.

  It was a long, boring day.

  Usually, any kind of precipitation led to craziness in local emergency departments, but the few fender benders that brought any business our way were all minor.

  I wasn’t complaining, exactly.

  I definitely didn’t want people getting hurt just so I’d have something to keep my mind occupied.

  It was just that, of all the days for there to be next to nothing going on, it would be today, when I was trying so hard to stay outside my head.

  I’d just about started doing card tricks for the patients to keep myself occupied. Of course, I didn’t know any card tricks, and I couldn’t even look any up because, assuming I could learn any, I didn’t have any cards.

  Story of my life.

  Come lunchtime, I retreated to the hospital cafeteria rather than the doctors’ lounge.

  I didn’t want to talk to anybody, and I’d made enough friends to know if I sat in the lounge, somebody would definitely ask if I was okay. I wasn’t a good enough liar to convince anybody I was even remotely okay.

  After getting a double order of fries and a soft drink, I tucked myself away in a corner. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but there were rarely times in my life when I couldn’t bring myself to eat hot, salty fries.

  Today was no exception. As I chomped my way through them, I flicked absently through my phone, checking my social media and my email. A message popped up from Brooks. Without thinking, I opened it and read the message.

  Have you found anything for Dad for Christmas?

  I grinned. All of my brothers eventually ended up asking me for suggestions for my father. I never had anything creative. It wasn’t like he was the easiest guy to shop for.

  Just having that guy I know dig him up some fancy, unusual scotch.

  Great. Now I have no idea what to get him.

  I sent him back a smiley face.

  You snooze, you lose.

  His next comment told me that I was a brat. With a laugh, I exited out of the conversation and scrolled through my other various texts. I didn’t even realize what I was doing at first, but once I did, I closed the app and put the phone face down on the table.

  Reaching up, I rubbed at my eyes.

  I’d deleted all those texts from Cormac for a reason.

  For this very specific reason, so I wouldn’t scroll back and go searching for them. Go back and look for them, and wonder, and wish and think and miss.

  And what had I been doing, but searching for them? Searching for them anyway.

  The history under the contacts didn’t show any calls or messages from him, and the total emptiness just made me ache even more.

  I was such a pathetic loser.

  Sighing, I finished up my fries and downed the rest of my soft drink.

  He hadn’t even tried to reach out to me. I didn’t even know if I wanted him to, but I couldn’t deny that some part of me was hurt that he hadn’t so much as tried.

  Thirty minutes before the end of my shift, Kris, one of the assistants who manned the front desk came rushing back into the unit with a wide grin on her face.

  She made a beeline for me. Eyes dancing, she said, “You better plan on giving us details, Dr. Downing.”

  “Details?” I gave her a curious look. “Details about what?”

  “The guy! There is a guy, right?”

  My cheeks flushed, and I glanced around, a little confused and more than a little self-conscious.

  “Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  Kris rolled her eyes and reached out to grab my arm, tugging me along behind her. “Come on. Out here. You’ll see.”

  All but helpless in the face of her excitement, I let her tug me along behind her, down the hallway and through the doors out into the emergency department waiting room.

  There, on the front desk, sat an enormous, beautiful bouquet of flowers, most of them exotic and unfamiliar to me.

  My eyes widened.

  “A
re those for me?” I asked, my voice faint.

  “Yep.” Kris kept grinning at me. “Now, don’t stand there and tell me there isn’t a guy.”

  My smile was automatic, but I couldn’t get my mind into working order.

  Kris plucked a card from a little holder and held it out. “Here.”

  I took it from her and tried to ignore the fact that my hands were shaking.

  “Are you going to open it?” she demanded, excitement coloring her voice.

  “Ah…no. Not out here,” I told her. Licking my lips, I tucked the card into my pocket.

  “They are from your guy, right?”

  My guy. I shifted my attention to her. “There’s a guy. I’m not sure where we stand right now.”

  “If he’s sending you flowers like that?” Kris rolled her eyes expressively. “You can say one thing with certainty. He’s nuts about you.”

  I had no response to that.

  Hefting the massive bouquet, I nodded at the door. “Can you open it?”

  “You’re not even giving me any good details,” she said with a heavy sigh. But she hit the button for the door.

  The card burned a hole in my pocket as I headed back onto the floor. More than a few whistled while others asked questions. I ignored them all and carried the flowers to the women’s changing room and settled them on one of the small tables.

  A quick glance assured me I was alone, so I dug the card out.

  The writing on it was unfamiliar to me, but I had a feeling it wasn’t Cormac’s. However, the words were all him.

  I was an ass. I saw you with that guy, and my brain just stopped. Sometimes I wonder why you even bother with me, instead of somebody who is smart and sophisticated like you. Like that other doctor. I saw the two of you together, and I lost it. It was stupid, and I’m sorry.

  Unsure of how I should think or even respond, I carefully tucked the note back inside the pocket of my scrubs and headed back out to finish up my shift.