Lyndsey

Taylor’s retelling of the events that caused us to run to her parents seemed almost mechanical. She was so precise, so emotionless in her retelling that it was hard to believe she had been involved at all. It was unlike her, Taylor was usually all piss and vinegar, sometimes having no control over her emotions. And here she was, totally flat.

Maybe it was just exhaustion?

Her father had remained quiet, just listening to what had happened, while her mother fluttered about, looking horrified, but then proud, of her daughter. Periodically throughout the retelling she had asked if anyone was hungry, but no one ever was. Well, Taylor and her dad weren’t. I was stinking famished, but I was too busy staring at the precious shoes on my feet to speak up at the moment.

Louboutins. Mother effing Louboutins.

“I just don’t understand who would do this,” her mother spoke up with wide eyes when Taylor finished the tale. She looked at her husband, who seemed deep in thought. The two of them were quite different. Taylor’s father was calm and collected while her mother was friendly and chatty. They seemed to complement each other well. “Did anyone even know where she was?”

“No,” her father sighed simply, looking sympathetically at his wife when she gasped and grabbed his arm. “Will you go ask Brian to bring everyone in?” he asked her, holding her hand lightly. She smiled sadly and nodded.

“Yes, and I’ll bring up some food. What would you all like?” she smiled hopefully at her daughter, who simply groaned and let her head slump to the table.

"Mom... wine. Please just give me wine,” she practically pleaded. I rolled my eyes. She would. Personally I was hoping more for some pancakes and bacon.

"Taylor Gabrielle, it is entirely too early for you to start drinking!" her mother huffed, looking quite ruffled at the suggestion. Taylor scoffed and turned her head to look at her mother.

"But you're celebrating my coming home, right? Celebrations usually call for wine, Mom."

"Not before sunrise,” the older woman scolded. This was actually quite amusing to see. No one even scolded Taylor, at least not that I’d ever seen. “My goodness Taylor, you'd be drunk before noon."

"That was my intention,” my friend grumbled, looking to me for backup. I raised my hands in surrender. I was not about to butt in on this.

"You're a mother now. You should be more responsible."

That seemed to strike a chord in Taylor, causing her face to fall. I knew that had to hurt her, she wasn’t feeling like the greatest mother in the world right now. She was blaming herself for what happened, and that it had put Tristan in danger.

"I would think getting him safely out of an explosion is pretty responsible," she said bitterly. Her mother’s face fell, realizing how her words had affected her daughter. She smiled sadly, but said nothing. Instead, Taylor’s father stepped in.

“Suzie, why don’t you get us some coffee instead?” he suggested, winking at his daughter. “We can survive off of that until you deem it late enough for wine.”

I nearly slumped in relief. Coffee. Beautiful, glorious, hot, caffeinated coffee. Oh that sounded wonderful.

“Of course,” her mother, Suzie, smiled. Suzie… it doesn’t exactly sound like the name of a mob wife.

As her mother left the room, Taylor yelled after her to bring some Bailey’s. Judging by the huff that was heard through the door, I didn’t think that Taylor would be getting her Irish cream.

I felt so out of place here. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing, or why Taylor had even brought me in here. Why couldn’t I have just slept? Sleeping did sound great right now. Judging by Taylor’s closet, I bet the beds in this place are unbelievably comfortable.

“You alright?”

I jumped at Taylor’s voice, finding that she was studying me carefully. The way she was looking at me was so calculating, like she was studying a defendant in one of her cases. It was pretty unsettling.

“Just tired,” I answered somewhat honestly. She nodded, but said nothing else. Surely she knew how I felt. We’d barely been able to sleep since this shit-storm started, let along sleep soundly. Once I finally got the chance to sleep, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d want to wake up.

Though, part of me wondered if I was sleeping right now. This whole situation was just too surreal. These things don’t happen in real life, not really. They weren’t supposed to at least. Yet here I was, sitting at a table with a mob boss.

If only my mother could see me now.

Oh God, my mom! Was she okay? Had she heard what had happened? Did she think I was dead? Shit, I didn’t even know if I would see her again.

“Taylor,” I said suddenly, my voice cracking as I imagined her house going up as ours had. Only my mother wouldn’t have escaped. She wouldn’t have known there were explosives in the house. She would have gone with it. “My mom-“

“Safe and under guard,” she cut me off, patting me on the arm in reassurance. “Brian took care of it. She knows your safe, but she doesn’t know where you are, not yet. When things calm down, you’ll be able to get ahold of her.”

I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, having the sudden urge to hug her brother and not let go. I had been so worried about myself that it hadn’t even occurred to me that they could have gone after my mother. Not that it was likely, but it could have happened. I never would have forgiven myself if it had.

As if he knew I had just thought of him, Brian strutted into the room, all confidence and business. You could look at him and know that he was in charge. He was just so intimidating, and that was even before I had known that he was a wanted criminal.

An attractive criminal, but still a criminal.

“Figured you’d want this,” he said to his sister, patting her head and setting a bottle of red wine and a glass in front of her. “Mom isn’t bringing the Bailey’s.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she grinned, suddenly a bit brighter in spirits as she reached up to pinch his cheeks. Brian scowled at her and swatted her hand away, moving around her chair and mine, only to take the chair on the other side of me.

“How are you holding up?”

It actually took a moment for me to fully realize that he was speaking to me. Sure he was sitting next to me, and looking at me, but he could have been speaking to someone else. Maybe.

“Fine. I’m fine,” I stuttered out, trying to remind myself that this was still the same Brian that had come to our house every couple of months to visit his sister and nephew. It was hard though, after witnessing him blow up a car and seeing the gun that he always kept tucked into the back of his pants. I’d never noticed that before.

“You’re holding up better than I thought,” he grinned, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Jimmy figured you’d have had a full on mental breakdown by now.”

I frowned, ready to retort, but the door opened back up again, and people began pouring in. Jimmy was first, with a much shorter man behind him, and I do mean much shorter. Seriously, the guy was about as tall as me. Behind him was another man, with black hair and pierced lips, a petite woman trailing behind him, looking as though she was trying to chat his ears off his head. The rear of the group was brought up by a large man. He was tall and muscular, but even that didn’t cover it. His presence seemed even larger than his body.

Until he stopped and saw Taylor, then he didn’t seem nearly as intimidating. The smile that broke out on his face was nothing but happiness. I’d never expected that a man that intimidating would have dimples, but boy did he.

Taylor looked like she was ready to cry as she stared up at him, but her lips had upturned in a smile as well. Neither of them moved for a moment, then without a word he took the seat beside her. They didn’t even speak to one another, just sat in silence.

“Introductions?” Brian asked me quietly, leaning close enough to whisper. His close proximity startled me, but I didn’t let him know that. He was probably just trying to get a reaction out of me. Instead I just nodded. “Right. Short guy next to Jimmy, that’s Johnny. On the other side, with the lip rings, that’s Zacky-“

“Zacky?” That wasn’t exactly a version of the name I had heard before.

“Old nickname, it stuck,” he said by way of explanation before continuing. “Then next to him, the girl, that’s Ray-“

“Ray is a girl?!” I hissed at him, feeling quite shocked. All this time when they had talked about Ray, I had thought it was a man!

“Yeah, Raychel,” he grinned, seeming thoroughly amused. “And the brute that planted himself next to my sister is Matt.”

I nodded, studying the way that Matt was watching Taylor. The look in his eyes was interesting, it was like he was staring at something precious, something very dear to him. I wonder…

“Is he Tristan’s dad?”

Brian spit out the coffee he had been drinking.

"Wait... Matt?” he coughed, wiping the drips from his chin. “You think Matt is Tristan's dad?"

"He isn't?" I asked slowly, suddenly feeling like a bit of a tool. Brian just blinked at me.

"Has Taylor told you anything about Tristan's father?"

"No."

"Nothing at all?" he questioned in disbelief. I huffed and shook my head.

"No. She never talked about her past, ever."

"Of course she didn't,” he laughed, staring at his sister as she spoke quietly with the man next to her. That Matt guy really was kind of scary. Even when he was smiling, he looked like he could squish me like a bug.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to...Just the way he acted around her, I thought...so he's not the father?" I rambled, feeling absolutely stunned. But it just made sense. They looked at each other like they were totally in love. And he even had dark hair like Tristan!

But then again… so did Taylor.

"No,” Brian said again. “But he should have been."

"He should have been? What the hell does that mean?" I scoffed, staring at Brian in confusion. Should have been? What had she done, entered a sperm lottery?

"A lot of things,” he shrugged as he repositioned himself in his chair and sat up straight. “It would have made things easier, for starters."

"Easier? You think a child's father should be decided by ease?" That had to be one of the most ignorant things anyone had ever said. This guy should have been the daddy because he’s my friend and it would be convenient. What the hell?

"No. I didn't mean it like that,” he said quickly, seeming to realize just how that had sounded. “It's just... his dad wasn't my favorite person. If it hadn't been for him, she may have never left."

I nodded slowly, so that’s what he meant. "He was an asshole, I take it."

"You can say that,” he chuckled, though there seemed to be an underlying bitterness there.

"She never talked about him, but I thought he might have been,” I confided in him. Personally I thought that she was a victim of an ‘abort the baby or we’re done’ kind of guy. But maybe a dirty mobster fit better. “I don't know how, I guess the way she acts sometimes. Around Tristan, and other men in general."

"Yeah, he really hurt her,” he sighed, looking over at his sister sadly. “Sometimes I wish I'd killed him. So does Matt."

Brian saying that shouldn’t have startled me, knowing what he was, but for some reason it did. Just hearing him saying that he wanted to kill someone, anyone, made everything seem a little to real right now. I looked over at the man next to Taylor, noticing the tattoos covering his arms, the muscles bulging, and the overall way he held himself.

"He sure looks capable of it,” I said thoughtfully, turning back to a grinning Brian.

"Oh he is. Very capable."

My stomach turned. That wasn’t really what I wanted to hear. I didn’t want to know that I was at the table with a killer. I’m sure Brian has killed people, but he hasn’t confirmed it. Confirming that his friend had -his friend who was talking to my best friend- was frightening.

"You don't need to worry."

"No?" I asked, wondering why on earth I wouldn’t need to worry. Taylor was sitting next to a murderer. God knows how many people that man has killed!

"No. He doesn't make a habit of hurting women,” Brian told me in a matter of fact manner. Yes, because that’s an obvious assumption to make. “Neither do I, or anyone else in this room. More importantly, you're not the enemy. You're one of us now, and we look after our own. As long as you're here, with any one of us, you'll be safe."

"Oh. Well, that's reassuring,” I muttered sarcastically. “But why?"

"Taylor considers you family, Tristan considers you family.” He shrugged. “You've looked after my little sister when we couldn't. She wouldn't have made it without you."

"She would have been fine without me,” I scoffed, waving him off. Really, did he underestimate her that much? Or does he just know nothing about her?

"She really wouldn't have,” he countered, scratching the back of his head absent-mindedly. “Taylor doesn't function well without family. Whether you know it or not, you were her lifeline."

I stared awkwardly, finding myself somewhere between believing him and thinking he was just tooting my horn to try to get in my pants. The smirk on his face didn’t help matters one bit. "I think it's the other way around, to be honest."

"What do you mean?"

"Taylor's my family, too,” I explained, trying to ignore the genuine curiosity that I could see on his face. Why does he have to look like he actually cares? Why can’t he just look bored like most men? Then maybe I’d actually stop talking and rambling to him like a loser. “And Tristan,” I continued, wishing my brain and my mouth were better at communicating so I’d just shut up already. “I mean, I have my mom but Taylor and Tristan are everything to me. I think I rely on them more than they do on me."

Brian looked pensive for a moment. His eyes seemed to fog over and his forehead wrinkled a bit. It almost looked like he was having some sort of debate with himself. After a moment, it appeared one side or the other one as he began to speak. "Listen... the Taylor you knew... the Taylor you've seen... she's going to be different now. You know that, right?"

Oh that wasn’t cryptic at all.

"What do you mean?"

"She's going to change. She's going to become what she was before,” he continued, only intensifying my confusion. As if I would have any idea of what she was like before. “I mean, she'll still be Taylor... but you'll see her do things and hear her say things that you'll never have imagined."

"I don't understand."

"Lyndsey, Taylor wasn't just born in this life,” he resituated himself, casting his sister a cautious glance and speaking more quietly. “She didn't just stay holed up in her room like my mom, pretending that she knew nothing about what was going on. She was part of it."

"Oh..." I muttered, looking at my friend. She seemed the same to me. The only difference that I could really see in her was that she almost seemed like she was flirting. Taylor never flirted.

"I know you don't understand just yet, but I wanted to warn you...you know, so you won't be so shocked when things start happening."

"Thanks, I appreciate it but..."

"But?" he cut me off.

"I just don't get it. She'll still be Taylor but she'll be different? You're trying to prepare me, I know, but nothing could have prepared me for this,” I scoffed, motioning to the room around us. I mean really, does he think I need to be prepared for everything? It’s not like Taylor had given me a crash course on surviving attacks and mafia life.

"I wish I could say I understand, but I don't,” he replied honestly. “I've always lived this life. I don't know what it's like for an outsider looking in."

"Like a bad movie."

"I could see that." The grin on his face was infectious, and against my better judgment, I found myself smiling too.

"Thank you, though. Really,” I said as diplomatically as possible, even managing to work a nice little hand pat in there. “It's nice of you to care enough to want to warn me."

"Like I said. We - I take care of my own,” he corrected, suddenly looking a bit fierce. It should have scared me, the cold glint in his eye, but more than anything it attracted me. “If you ever need anything, just let me know."

"Thank you, Brian.” I swallowed, trying to rid myself of the sudden tightness in my chest. Why did I find him so damn attractive? Ugh. He’s my best friend’s brother. He’s a criminal. He has a nose stud!

"I mean it. Being Taylor's family means you're my family, too. If there's every anything that you need - someone to talk, just anything, I'm your guy."

"I'll remember that,” I assured him, saying a silent prayer that he finally would stop talking to me. Much more of this and I’m sure to make an ass out of myself.

"Good." He nodded at me once before he finally, blessedly, shut his damn mouth.

His beautiful, seductive mouth.

Notes