Thorn: Carter Kids #2 (14 page)

Shrugging my words off like the optimistic bastard I knew he was, Tommy continued planting the seed in my brain. “Times are changing, Noah,” he argued, excitement evident in his eyes. “And the rules are changing too. In your favor, dude. The sport is sluggish, and they’re looking for fresh meat – someone with enough personality to draw the crowds back in. Young, skilled and ruthless.” Drum rolling his hands against the table, Tommy grinned. “And you’re all of those, man.”

“Forget it,” I told him. “There’s not a company on this side of the continent gonna sign the likes of me.”

“You sure about that, man?” Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he dragged out a crumpled sheet of paper and placed it in front of me.

“And this is?” The letter was scribbled out in cursive. I was a fucking terrible reader and I sure as hell wasn’t about to embarrass myself by trying to sound it out in a prison visiting room.

“A handwritten letter from Quinn ‘The Ripper’ Jones himself,” Tommy informed me proudly. “Letting your pessimistic ass know there’s a place waiting for you in his gym when you’re out. In eight fucking months.”

“Why?” It was the one question I needed answering. Why the fuck would Quinn Jones write to me? That guy was practically MFA royalty. Two-time heavyweight champion, I’d followed his career back in the day. Hell, come to think about it, I was fairly certain that I’d had a poster on my bedroom wall of him when I was a kid. Since his early retirement a few years ago – when he broke a bone in his back – Quinn had settled for coaching up and comers. He had his pick of the litter and trained only the best. The elite. The guys with the biggest potential. The guaranteed future heavyweight champions. The fighters that were guaranteed to bring in the big bucks and make a shit ton of cash. So what in the fuck was he doing sniffing around a waste of space like me?

“Gimme that thing.” I snatched the letter out of Tommy’s hands and held it up to my face, concentrating my hardest.

Nope, still couldn’t make out a damn word, but I believed Tommy. He wouldn’t fuck with me. The guy was as loyal as they came.

“This is it, Noah,” Tommy chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “This is your goddamn meal ticket out.”

I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

My meal ticket out?

Well shit…

GOD, I LOVED MUSIC.

It was by far my favorite wonder of the world. It was soul searing and wondrous and deserved to be on the list.

How amazing were the writers, poets and musicians of the world?

They could shove their hands through your chest and pull on your heartstrings with lyrics and melodies.

Okay, so I knew music wasn’t listed in the Seven Wonders of the World, but I thought that was a crying shame. Sure, Niagara Falls was nothing short of wonderful, and the Coral Reef was splendid, the Grand Canyon spectacular, but I could easily live without those. What I
couldn’t
live without was music and that had to count for something, right?

Pumping Imagine Dragon’s
Radioactive
on my iPod, I pounded the footpath, desperate to rid my body of the tension building up inside of me since I got out of bed this morning and had to spend an entire day ignoring what today represented to me.

I hated New Year’s Eve.

It was the worst day of every year for me and this year was harder than others.

As I ran down the path, dodging happy couples and families with smiling children, I couldn’t help but think of my mother.

Today was the anniversary of her death and I think I missed her more now than I did when I was fourteen. I missed her voice and her hugs. I missed her advice and the way she could always make me feel better no matter how hard things were.

I wondered what she would say to me now.

Would she be proud of me?

Of the choices I had made?

WHEN I MADE IT BACK TO THE APARTMENT,
I let myself inside and headed straight for a shower, desperate to wash away the icky sensation of windburn and sweat.

When I was finished and dressed, I decided to bite the bullet and call the one person in this world that hated New Year’s Eve as much as I did. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I inhaled a deep calming breath and dialed his number.

“Hello?” The sound of his familiar voice filled my stomach with a flurry of nerves.

“Hi, Uncle Max,” I heard myself say in a voice much smaller than normal. “It’s me.”

“Teagan,” he acknowledged slowly. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I replied, nodding slowly. “You?”

“I’ve been better,” was his response. “I’m at work, actually,” he added, and the sound of machine’s beeping in the background suddenly made sense.

Max was a doctor – a workaholic to be exact.

I should have known he would be at the hospital today. He had a tendency to work through his feelings – literally.

“It’s been a while,” I said, throwing it out there, tackling the big fat elephant between us. I hadn’t spoken to my uncle since I left The Hill.

Not a single word.

All correspondence between us had been done through the Carter’s.

“It’s lonely not having family around – especially today,” I admitted, closing my eyes, hating how weak that sentence made me sound.

“That was your choice, Teagan, not mine,” Max replied coolly. “But I presume you already know you made the wrong decision by shacking up with that criminal.”

“I am
not
shacked up with Noah,” I snarled, rising onto my knees.

This was the crux of it all; Max would never get over me choosing Noah over him all those years ago.

“Because in case it hasn’t crossed your attention, Noah’s in prison.” My voice was full of pain and sarcasm. “And it wasn’t his fault,” I added.

He might be a cheating bastard, but Noah wasn’t a criminal – not through choice at least. He had been thrown into a world of crime and had done the only thing he could do. Survive. “Hate Noah if you want, Max,” I growled. “But don’t call him that.”

“I’m simply calling a spade a spade,” he replied, not giving an inch.

Sighing heavily, I struggled to rein in my emotions and make the peace. “Look,” I coaxed in as reasonable tone as I could muster. “It’s been almost five years. Can’t we just bury the hatchet and call a truce?”

“And when Noah gets out?” Max countered, ignoring the olive branch I was offering him. “What happens then?”

“What do you mean what happens when he gets out?”

“How long will this so called truce last when lover boy gets released from prison?”

Shaking my head in confusion, I opened my mouth to defend myself but Max jumped in before I had a chance.

“I will not condone you being in any sort of relationship with a criminal, Teagan,” he told me in that snotty, superior tone I had forgotten he loved to use when talking down to me. “I will have no part in it.”

“Oh my fucking god,” I hissed, “Max, do you realize how insane you sound right now?” Jumping off my bed, I stalked my floor, feeling angrier than I had in months. “This conversation is pointless because Noah and I are
over
.”

“We’ll see how over you two are when he gets out, won’t we?” he shot back coolly.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.

“Don’t act so stupid, Teagan,” my uncle snarled, finally losing his cool demeanor. “That thug was obsessed with you! Do you honestly believe he’s not going to come looking for you when he gets out?” he all but roared down the line. “Bringing with him all the danger and trouble that comes hand in hand with gang members.”

“George Dennis is dead,” I informed him angrily, reciting the words that had kept me sane since I found out all those years ago. “It’s over, Max. The Ring of Fire is gone, and when Noah is done serving his time he will be a free man. And besides, Noah and I have had
no
contact,” I choked out. “Not one phone call in all these years.” I blinked away the hot tears that were burning my eyes. “For all I know, he’s forgotten about me –”

“It will
never
be over and you know that,” Max interrupted, ignoring my protests. “There is
always
another low life waiting in the wings to swoop in and take the reins in a gang.”

“You’re wrong,” I countered shakily. “It’s over.”

“Look at what he dragged you into, Teagan,” Max snarled, clearly furious. “Illegal fighting rings. Drug lords. Car chases. Police stations. Brothels.” I could hear the outrage and disproval dripping from his voice. “You’ve taken beatings for him. You’ve been bullied because of him –
he
bullied
you, Teagan. For Christ’s sake, that man took your innocence and he uploaded it to the Internet for the world and its mother to see.”

“He didn’t do that.”

“Keep defending him.”

“I’m not. I’m stating facts.”

“And you will go back to him,” Max added condescendingly. “Because that’s what women like you do.”

“Women like
me
?”

“Weak women,” Max informed me. “Dependent women. Women who bend their morals and go against everything they’ve ever believed in for a man. And just like your mother, you will end up getting killed because of that man,” Max added, sticking the knife in deeper.

“How dare you bring Mom into this?” I screamed, becoming hysterical. “I am not weak or dependent, and neither was she.” Bringing up my mother and father’s relationship was Max’s favorite party trick. He did it when he wanted to hurt me most.

Well, mission accomplished.

“She fell in love, Max. My mother followed her heart, which is something you will never understand because you don’t have one.” Squeezing my phone so tightly I was surprised it didn’t crack, I roared, “And I am not that kind of woman.”

“You were prepared to run away with a murderer,” Max protested smugly. “That makes you exactly that kind of a woman.”

“Noah is
not
a murderer!”

“Yet.”

“At all!” I screamed, reaching my boiling point. “Now stop this. I mean it. Stop it right now!”

“He is the worst kind of wrong for you,” my uncle bellowed. “The moment you decided you loved him, you were lost to me. You sold your soul to the devil himself.”