Club Ties (8 page)

“Don’t hold back, Moxie. Tell him how you really feel,” Crux said, slapping the big guy on the shoulder on his way to the door. 

Rhys flipped the bird to Crux’s back. “Let’s see how the angel handled being left alone all day without you there to kiss her ass.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mox said, locking his box up. Despite his reassurance to Rhys, he hadn’t liked leaving Eva alone this morning, but he’d had little choice. The storm had robbed them of two days’ pay as it was. Punching out at the old-fashioned time clock, he smiled. He wasn’t working for pocket money and a bike payment anymore. Things had changed in the last week. Besides rent, utilities, and groceries, he had a hot old lady to take care of. Life was definitely looking up.

The mouth-watering aroma of fried chicken hit Mox the moment he stepped in the door. His stomach growled. A visual sweep of the apartment revealed the last of the boxes gone and everything spotless. The TV screen was dark over the cheery gas fireplace. Eva was nowhere in sight. Shucking out of his Carhartt coat, he dropped onto the sturdy bench by the door to unlace his boots.

“You’re home.”

He looked up at the soft words. Eva smiled shyly at him from the hallway arch. Dressed simply in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt in pale blue that clung to her curves, she looked beautiful. He held out his arms. Her teeth sank into the swell of her bottom lip. One foot twisted in uncertainty. He could feel his face warming, knowing he looked like a fool.

Just as he dropped his arms, she crossed the gleaming hardwood. She stopped in front of him, wringing her hands. He frowned.  Scanning her face, he winced at the bruises still marring her smooth skin. Was her fear related to the past or the present? The apartment sparkled. Dinner smelled fantastic. She didn’t have access to his bank account yet. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. How many times had he watched Zeke and Ginny play out this scenario?

“What’d you do?” he asked.

Color drained from her face. Her head shook back and forth in adamant denial. Knees shaking, she stepped back from him. All humor fled at her terror, and he stood up, reaching for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered as she crumpled to her knees, shoulder hunching to protect her face.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, confusion and hurt warring in his tone.

When she didn’t answer him, he knelt beside her. She flinched from his touch. His hand balled into a fist as he fought the building anger and frustration. Shaking his head, he stood and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he took a long drink. The remaining water sloshed as he slammed the bottle down on the island. He leaned against the counter, head in his hands. What the hell had he done wrong?  

Draining the rest of his drink, he crushed the bottle before tossing it in the trash. His lips twisted in annoyance at the spill on the countertop, and he swiped his shirt sleeve over it. Looking for an answer, he looked helplessly around the kitchen. Other than the electric skillet full of chicken, it was spotless. Poking at the frying bird with a pair of tongs, his gaze went back to Eva. She hadn’t moved. He sighed.

She trembled at his approach, but he didn’t let it sway him this time. Sweeping her up as easy as a child, he carried her over to the recliner and dropped into it with her in his lap.

“I don’t know what happened today, and, right now, I don’t care,” he said flatly. “All I wanted was a hug.”

Eva surged up, arms wrapping around his neck in a stranglehold of a hug. Startled, he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Hot tears streaked down the side of his neck. His gaze rolled heavenward. He would never understand women. Rubbing a warm circle on her back, he waited. The waterworks continued until the collar on his work shirt clung soggy to his neck. He sighed. Whatever she’d done, it wasn’t worth this.

“Whatever you did, just tell me. We’ll work it out and move on, baby. I’m an easy guy to get along with. Shit, I forgive you, okay?”

If possible, she cried harder. Fear started to worm its way into his mind. He’d offered her a free pass and, still, she was crying. What the hell could be that bad? Burrowing his nose in her hair, he held her and waited.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered with a little hiccup.

“Zeke always says there are only a couple of things a woman can’t be forgiven for, baby. All the rest you can suck or fuck your way out of.”

Eva snorted in laughter, blowing a snot bubble in the process. She looked mortified. He laughed. Shaking his head, he stood and carried her to the kitchen. Settling her on the counter, he awkwardly snagged a roll of paper-towels. Unsure of what to say, he shifted from one foot to the other. Finally he turned away, concentrating on the frying chicken while she pulled herself together.

“Did your dad really say that?”

“Believe it or not, yeah,” Mox said with a chuckle.

“As perverted and sexist as it sounds, Ginny has to find it kind of reassuring,” Eva said, twisting the paper-towel in her hands.

Mox leaned against the island, mulling that one over. “I guess.” He watched her work over that beautiful bottom lip again. “What happened today that you’re worried about?”

“Nothing. I just…” her words stalled, hands fluttering uselessly. “I just wasn’t sure what you wanted, what you were going to do. I never know—knew—what to expect when he walked through the door. I was nervous and just panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question hung between them. Her mouth opened and closed. Dropping her eyes, she wrung the tissue until it shredded in her hands. It was all the answer he needed.  Swallowing the bitter truth, he raked a hand over his smooth head. He backed towards the door, not sure where he was going. She watched him in silence, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Pausing at the door, he tried to think of something to say. He came up empty. He had to get out of there.

Mox stared at Zeke and Ginny’s house. He had come home without conscious decision. Shutting off the ignition, he sat in the silent truck, trying to figure out what to do. The thought of losing Eva made his chest ache. It was scary how quickly he had come to care for her, to love her. Besides Ginny, she was the first woman he couldn’t imagine living without. How did he convince her that he’d sooner rip off his own arm than hurt her?

Rhys would never understand. Dealings with the fairer sex came natural to his brother. Ginny was so protective, she would blindly take his side. He couldn’t risk Eva falling from favor with the queen. That left Zeke. Mox grimaced. The big man was not known for his heart-to-hearts, but on the other hand, he might have some insight into how to deal with a woman.

Mox paused outside the study door. It was closed. He frowned, unsure if he should bother his father. The den was Zeke’s sacred ground within the house. He rubbed at the back of his neck. His damp shirt collar made the decision for him. He knocked.

“Yeah.”

Mox opened the door at Zeke’s rumble. When he hesitated in the doorway, Zeke’s salt-and-pepper brow quirked in question. Mox could practically hear the unspoken question,
Well, what the fuck do you want?
He had to clear his throat before he could force the words out.

“Can I talk to you?”

Zeke regarded him in silence for a minute, but tossed down his pen.

“Sure. Come on in.”

Claiming one of the large leather chairs in front of Zeke’s desk, Mox searched for the right words. Damn, this was worse than the time he’d had to ask to borrow money for his Harley payment.

“Money, broads, or something bigger?” Zeke asked around his cigar.

“Eva.” Mox admitted, running a hand over his head.

“Do I need to interrogate you, or are you going to spit it out?”

A wry grin twisted Mox’s lips at his father’s gruff humor. “No need for the rubber hose. I’ll confess. Women confuse the shit outa me.”

“You and every other man,” Zeke said with a chuckle. “When you find one that you actually want to try to understand, that’s the one to hold onto.”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“She’d be stupid not to be.”

Mox’s head snapped up in surprise. His jaw worked for a moment as he struggled to rein in the surge of anger and hurt. “Why the fuck would you say that? I wouldn’t hurt her,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“She doesn’t know that yet. You saw the bruises on her. Gin says there are some nasty scars her clothes hide. When a woman is hurt by a man, a lot of times that’s how she sees it. She was hurt by a man. Men become something to fear. All men,” Zeke said shrugging his shoulders. “You have to prove to her that you’re the man that will protect her.”

Mox leaned back in his chair. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

“Your physical intimidation is only part of it. It doesn’t take a large man to rough up a woman. Once the fear is there, though, you can bet she’s looking at the size of your fists and thinking what kind of damage you would do if you got pissed off.”

“Does the police department make you take classes on this shit or something?”

“Sure, I’ve had to sit through seminars on domestic abuse and battered women, but it really sinks in when it hits the home front.”

“You mean Kramer…”

Zeke’s negative head shake cut off Mox’s sentence.

“When Gin showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night twenty however many years ago, she was trading one fear for another. Her father had upped the ante on her that night, going from beating the shit out of her to trying to rape her. She knew, with my feelings on rapists, that I’d protect her from that. Growing up in that household, she assumed all men hit. It was just a matter of how often and how hard. By agreeing to be mine, she was banking on her feminine wiles and smoking hot body to limit my fists.”

“She thought you would punch her?” Mox croaked, his throat dry at the thought.

“She didn’t know I wouldn’t.”

“I would kill you,” Mox said, meaning every word.

Zeke chuckled and nodded, “That’s my boy. And you could try.” He puffed on his cigar for a moment, their matching gaze measuring the other. “The point is, you know you wouldn’t hurt Eva. I know I’d never hit Ginny with a closed fist. It’s what they know that matters.”

“Eva had that nervous look when I got home, and all I did was ask her what she did, just like you do Ginny, and she freaked out and fell on the floor.”

“She needs to understand that you’re not him. Set her down and lay it on the line. That’s what I did with Gin. I told her to be honest with me or I’d smack her right in the mouth, but that I wasn’t her father, and I wasn’t going to beat her for something stupid like burning dinner. A real man doesn’t have to prove himself by beating a woman. I think it helps to lay your expectations on the table. Every household, every man, has their own rules and hot buttons. If everyone knows what they are then no one’s walking around on eggshells.”

“It didn’t bother you that Ginny was afraid of you?”

“I didn’t want her scared of me. As Neanderthal as it sounds, a little fear isn’t a bad thing. I want to know that when I give my woman the look, that she’s going to pay attention. This fall-on-the-floor shit you’re talking about is a whole different thing. You grew up in this family. You know how Ginny is. Not only is she not afraid to speak her mind to me, but she’ll stand up to other men because she knows I have her back. Your old lady only needs to worry about you.”

Mox mulled Zeke’s words over. As strange as what he was saying seemed in connection with Ginny now, it made sense, and it also shed a little light on Zeke and Ginny’s relationship. He wanted a bond like theirs, and if this was the way to go about it, he was willing to try. There were uncanny similarities in their starts. He hoped he and Eva could stand the test of time. 

Chapter ~ 9

The heavy steel door at the bottom of the stairs slammed shut, and her heart sank. What had he expected her to say? Rocco had made her pray for death on more than one occasion, and he was half the size of Mox. The look in his pale eyes haunted her. He’d been so generous, and she’d screwed it all up.

A silent sob broke in her throat. Sliding down the cabinets, she buried her face in her knees and gave into the tears that flowed. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Rocco’s words were starting to ring true. There were only so many times she could blame others before she had to face the truth.

She had no idea how long she sat there. The smell of chicken pulled her from her misery and nudged her into action. Numbly she turned off the electric skillet, setting the chicken aside on paper-towels so it wouldn’t soak up the oil. At least he’d be able to eat when he got home. It would be best if he didn’t have to tell her to leave. She walked to the bedroom on autopilot. After only a week, Mox’s apartment felt like home. Her fingers trailed over the smooth comforter. She wished she could have just one more night in his arms. She’d never felt so wanted.

Biting her lip, she turned away and regarded the clothes he’d bought her. There weren’t a lot, but it was more than enough to get by. She wavered. They were of no use to him. She’d write down his address and pay him back after she got settled.

She dashed a tear away and blinked against an onslaught. Now was no time for self-pity. She’d brought this on herself. Eva grimaced at the thought, hearing those same words in Rocco’s smooth Italian accent. Shaking off the chill the memory brought, she stood on tip-toe to search the dark recesses of the closet. Finding the tattered backpack she’d tossed up there when unpacking, she added that to the list of things she’d reimburse Mox for.

It didn’t take long to pack up the sparse wardrobe and toiletries. Knowing she only had around ten dollars in her purse, she trailed back to the kitchen. A couple of sandwiches, oranges, peanut butter crackers, and two bottles of water rounded out the back-pack. Turning off the oven that held wrapped baked potatoes, she shouldered the bag and headed for the door before she changed her mind.   

She froze as the door opened. Rhys’ gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“Where’re you going?”

Eva backed away as he stepped into the room, followed by a hulking man with a slew of facial piercings and a thick shock of dark hair swept up in a Pebble’s ponytail on top of his head. She scrambled for a name. He’d helped with the move. It was either Sambo or Tech. Either way, he was terrifying.