Shooter (Burnout) (19 page)

“Thank you,” she said into his chest.

“Nothin’ to thank me for,” he insisted. “It was in the garage.” His hand fingered one of her silky locks of hair. “And I know how much you like music. Always dancing at the bar like you do.”

“Don’t look at my butt.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. That’s not a possibility, Slick.”

********************

A week later, Hayley was sweeping the front porch when Chris came out for work. She smiled at him. “Got an extra for tonight,” he called to her from his driveway.

“What?”

“Convinced Jimmy to come to Poker Night tonight. We’re knocking off early to go get him and bring him down,” he told her, pleased as hell that he was finally making some progress with the sour bastard.

Hayley nearly dropped the broom. “What? Why did you you tell me?!”

He frowned. “I just did,” he pointed out.

“
I mean before now!
” she shouted. Chris looked around to see if she’d woken any neighbors with her harpy-like shrieking.

“I- look, Slick, it’s not a big deal. It’s-”

“Not a big deal!” she protested. She tossed the broom against the door and marched down the stairs. “Shooter Sullivan, it’s a very big deal that your brother is coming to town. And you should have told me before now so I could plan something special. Now I’ve got to go to the store after work and I may not have enough time to get everything ready by the time you get back. In the future, I need more notice when your family comes to town!”

Chris grinned and half saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am.” Then his face softened. “Hayley do you need any money for this extravaganza you’re planning?” he asked, already reaching for his wallet.

Hayley shook her head and waved him off. “No. No, no, no. I’ll be fine. You just remember that I need advanced notice for special occaisions,” she admonished.

“Will do,” he promised.

Hayley was half-distracted at work all day, quizzing Maria and Milo on the ins and outs of New Orleans. She’d never been there personally. Maria admitted she’d been there once for Mardi Gras 15 years ago, but all she remembered of the trip was a whiskey drink called Sazerac and a hot jazz player and somehow ending up with about three dozen strings of beads. Hayley didn’t comment. She clocked out half an hour early with Maria’s permission and practically ran to the grocery store.

At a little after 7, the sound of the Hummer pulling into Chris’ driveway brought Hayley out of the kitchen and peeking out the blinds for a glimpse of Easy Turnbull. He appeared shorter than Chris, but not by much. He did have a bit of a limp, she was sorry to notice, and made a mental note to ignore it. She packed everything up in bags and headed out the front door.

“Hi!” she called out, not really able to wave to Jimmy with her arms full.

He looked taken aback at her. And mumbled something she didn’t really hear. Hawk and Tex took some of the bags from her and she continued on toward Chris’ front porch.

“Hi, I’m Hayley!” she gushed.

“Congratulations,” Easy grumbled. Well, she’d understood that, at least.

“I cook dinner. On Poker Night. It’s a thing. Anyway, I heard you were coming and I made you all kinds of things.”

In the kitchen, she set about arranging dishes on the island counter.

“It’s shrimp and grits,” she announced, uncovering a large dish. “And beignets for dessert. ‘Cause you’re from New Orleans. And I thought you might be missing home a little.”

Easy looked over the spread and grunted. After a few moments of silence, he shook his head, flung open the back door, and walked out. Chris, pissed off at the younger man’s rudeness, started to follow him but Hayley stopped him.

“Just take this to the table,” she ordered, picking up the serving bowl of biscuits and pushing it at him. Hayley sent the rest of the men to the dining room with the food. She herself opened a cabinet next to the stove.

Stepping onto the back deck, the night breeze was nice. She plunked down a bottle and two glasses, placing one of them in front of Easy. He glared at the bottle, then at her.

“I’m from New Orleans, remember?” he snapped sarcastically.

Hayley settled into the chair across from him. “Oh, they have a law there that says you can’t drink Kentucky bourbon?” She didn’t wait for answer as she poured them both a drink. She picked up hers and, reluctantly, Easy picked up his. She grimaced at the taste. Easy scowled but underneath it was a smirk.

“Drink much?” he asked her.

“Not even a little,” she admitted, and took another sip.

He shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“On the contrary,” she said, blowing out a breath at the sting of the alcohol. “I give up all the time.”

Easy snorted. “So how do I get you to give up on me?”

Hayley eyed him over her glass and shrugged. “If you give up on yourself, what does it even matter what I do?”

Easy had no answer to that, so he just took another drink.

When Easy was on his second glass, Hayley still her first, she said, “They’re real grits, you know. Not instant.”

Easy considered this. “Haven’t had real grits in a long time,” he confided.

“They take a whole 25 minutes longer to cook than instant.”

He smirked again. “A
whole
25 minutes?”

Hayley hiccuped. “Yep.”

“Well, maybe I feel like grits,” he finally acquiesced. “Since you went to
so much
trouble.”

“Good,” she said, standing up. She swayed a little and grabbed the back of the chair. “Come inside and I’ll get a plate for you.”

“Maybe you ought to lie down,” Easy said as they stepped inside the kitchen.

She waved him away. “I will later. I don’t think I’m making it home tonight.”

“You live next door,” Easy pointed out.

Hayley shrugged and spooned up some shrimp and grits.

Chapter 14

At the end of her shift on Monday, Hayley stretched out in her tub and closed her eyes. Chris hadn’t been home when she’d gotten off work and she was mulling over asking him over for the spaghetti and meatballs she’d made this afternoon. She dried off and was pulling a t-shirt over her head when she heard a sound like breaking glass coming faintly from Chris’ house. Frowing she looked out her bedroom window, but Chris’ window was dark and she couldn’t see anything.

She threw on her shoes and peeked out the front window. His bike was in the driveway. No other cars. She grabbed her keys, locked her door, and cautiously made her way to Chris’ front porch. She heard no other sounds coming from his house. She knocked, but there was no answer.

Hayley twisted the knob and was surprised that the front door opened. She stepped inside and saw Chris stumbling toward the kitchen. She frowned and headed toward him. He pitched forward, grabbed the edge of the breakfast bar. She gasped and reached out for him. “Chris!” she said, grabbing his arm. He turned suddenly, his arm along with him, clocking her in the lip with his elbow. She fell backwards on to the floor and Chris landed in a heap next to her.

She groaned and touched her bottom lip, coming away with blood. Ignoring it, she turned her attention on Chris who was unconscious on the floor next to her. “Chris,” she said, shaking his shoulder. No response. “Chris!”

It didn’t look as though he’d hit his head on anything, and when the smell of booze hit her, she didn’t think he had a head injury. She looked around and spied an empty bottle of bourbon on the coffee table. Shifting to her knees, she grabbed Chris’ arm and tugged. “Chris, you have to get up,” she told him. He moaned a little, but didn’t respond. She pulled harder. “You can’t stay on the floor.”

He was more than twice her size and she wasn’t budging him off the hard tile of the kitchen floor. Sighing in frustration, she sat down next to him, trying to decide what to do. Eventually she went through his pockets, finding nothing. She searched the kitchen and came up with his cell phone, charging on the counter. She began scrolling through the contacts.

The phone rang twice. Tex picked up on the second ring. “Did you finally decide you’re being a bastard and are gonna come join us?” he asked.

Hayley dabbed her tongue along her damaged bottom lip. “Tex?” she said quietly into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he replied. “Slick? Why are calling me from Shooter’s phone? Where is he?”

“We’re at his house,” she replied. “Um…he’s on the floor. I can’t get him up.”

Tex cursed. “Okay, darlin’. No worries. We’re on our way. Just…just stay with him until we get there, okay honey?”

She nodded even though Tex couldn’t see it. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be here.”

“Good girl,” he replied and disconnected.

For some reason Hayley quickly got up and grabbed the empty bottle and the shards of a glass from the table in the living room. She tossed the bottle and the pieces of glass into the recylcing bin. It was obvious that Chris was drunk, but she didn’t want his men to see the evidence of it. Back at his side, she realized his pants were wet. She pressed her fingers to the dark spot and sniffed. He’d apparently dumped some of the bourbon onto himself. Which, she supposed, was marginally better than other scenarios running through her head. She crawled up next to him and lifted his head, placing it in her lap.

She’d never seen Chris get anywhere near close to drunk. Not even on Poker Night. He appeared to be a pretty conservative drinker to her eyes.
She’d
gotten drunk more often in the time that she’d known him. She wondered what had caused him to get blitzed tonight. Tex had said he was being a bastard, but that didn’t sound like the Chris that she knew.

She ran her fingers through his hair and looked down at him, unable to come up with an explanation on her own. She heard the boys pull up and was simultaneously happy they were here and cautious about it. She could hide the bottle, but not her lip, and she didn’t want them to think anything bad had happened even though she was in Chris’s house uninvited. Tex was the first one through the door, followed by Caleb, then Hawk.

Tex stopped, looming above them. “Christ,” he muttered, taking in the scene. “Dumb bastard.” He held out a hand to Hayley. “Alright, calvary’s here. Up you go, darlin’ ” He pulled her up and his face darkened as he caught sight of her injured lip. He said nothing, though, as he turned to Hawk. “Grab his feet, I’ll get his arms.” Tex and Hawk picked up Chris and carried him into the Master bedroom. Hayley and Caleb followed.

They tossed Chris onto the bed and Caleb turned on the bedroom light. He took Hayley’s face in his hands. “Look up,” he commanded, inspecting her face. “What happened?” Caleb asked.

Hayley swallowed convulsively. “Nothing. It was an accident. I fell and-”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed at her. “Slick, you don’t have to lie for him. You don’t need to protect him. Not from us. When he wakes up and sees this, he’s gonna kick his own ass so hard we won’t be needed. What happened?”

“I came up behind him. He hit me with his elbow. But it
was
an accident! He didn’t even know I was in the house! I heard some glass breaking and I came to see if he was okay.”

“Dumb bastard,” Tex repeated.

Caleb let go of Hayley’s face. “What…what’s wrong with him?” she asked. “I mean…why?”