chapter Ten
The Things I Do
Sam
I’ve had too much to drink. I know Misha has been trying to get me pissy, so I cough up the truth. He just doesn’t know. I need to be in the bottom of every bottle we have drunk. Doesn’t help that my drinking partner and one of my best friends is an Irishman.
Logan has been right there beside me to make sure I hold my shit. I need Misha’s trust. There are whispers. Everyone thinks the Alliance is weak. That we’ve started something we can’t handle. Misha and I taking hits so close to home has created waves.
I need his focus off me and Monique and on the bigger picture around us. If that means spending our nights drinking our problems away, in his hotel room, so be it. It’s just tonight, Misha’s choice of Russian vodka, is promising to knock me on my ass.
“My friend, how is she? Have you told her of her niece?” Misha’s blue eyes blaze, as he asks the question. He doesn’t even look fazed.
I nod and run a hand through my hair. I’m no fool. Drink or not, I will stay as close to the truth as I can.
“She is doing as best as can be expected. Her shoulder is healing. The guilt of everything weighs heavy in her eyes. I tell her none of this is her fault, but I see she doesn’t believe me,” I nod and huff.
“She knows about Milanie. I think she is still in shock. She hasn’t mentioned her sisters or her niece since we talked about them,” I say.
It’s all truth. Misha can see that as he looks deep into my eyes. I refuse to look away. I have watched Monique in my home the few times I’ve gotten the chance.
Misha never showed up for the repass, but just as I thought, he sent one of his spies. Monique played the perfect distance not to give us away. It didn’t hurt that Sammy needed her most of the time. The girls had clung to her that day as well. I couldn’t have planned it better.
Misha snorts. “Guilt for stealing another woman’s husband,” he purrs and lifts a brow.
I fly to my feet and sway to the side. I ignore the groan that comes from Logan beside me. I’m not too drunk to make myself clear.
“Watch what you say, Misha. Tasha has never had to steal my heart. She has owned it for longer than even I have known. Before my wife, before my children. She walked away with a piece of me when she walked away from me,” I roar as my chest heaves.
When my own words penetrate my own skull, I stumble back. I shake my head to clear it. I clench my jaw. I have no idea where that just came from.
I look at Logan, he is giving me a quizzical look. When my eyes flicker to Misha, I see him watching Logan. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This slick bastard.
I stumble back to my seat and sit heavily. I look at the table and brush my hands over it. I feel the tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“I never cheated on my wife. I loved her. Sam,” I point to my chest. “He loved her. She never knew LaSalle. I don’t know if she could handle or love LaSalle. Tasha has seen LaSalle, it’s who she knows most. But LaSalle has never been fit for her or Ellen.
“Ellen knew this. She saw the man I was becoming. I never cheated on my wife. My feelings for Tasha were never touched while my wife and I were together,” I finish as I dance around the truth.
“I will see this for myself,” Misha says, but when I look in his face it’s a stone mask. “Milanie needs stability. You said you’d help. It’s time.”
I’m too drunk to process his meaning. My brain is still reeling at what my drunkenness has revealed. I nod at Logan, knowing this needs to be the end of the night for me.
~B~
Monique
“Mo-mo,” Jessica whispers, as I brush her hair with my good arm.
“Yes, sweetie,” I murmur quietly. Megan is fast asleep in Jessica’s bed already. They have been sleeping together the last few nights.
“I really miss my mommy,” she says with a tremble in her voice.
I drop my hand into my lap. I don’t know what to say. I bite back my own tears. These poor babies.
“Is-is it okay to talk about her?” Jessica turns to face me and whisper.
“Of course, Honey. We’ll talk about her as much as you like, whenever you like,” I promise.
“She was the best mommy in the world. I miss her smile. I miss her hugs,” Jessica sobs.
I wrap my arms around her as best I can with one in a sling, rocking her from side to side. “I will never be able to hug you like your mommy. No one will, and for that I’m so sorry. I wish I had some type of magic to fix this for you. I can promise this. You have so many people that love you. Whenever you need a hug and it starts to hurt too much. You just ask for a hug.”
“Can I ask you?” Jessica snuffles.
“Anytime,” I whisper fiercely.
“Daddy said mommy is in heaven. He said, God needed mommy for something special. Do you think she has wings?”
I have to swallow back my sob. “Oh, baby. I think your mommy has a great big pair of wings. I bet she has already made a bunch of friends too,” I croak out.
“Yeah, my mommy was a good friend,” Jessica says proudly. “I bet that’s why God needed her. To help others that need to make friends.”
I kiss her forehead and give her a wobbly smile. “You just might be right.”
“In that case, I won’t be so sad. They need my mommy. I have friends already,” Jessica looks down, then looks back at me with fresh tears. “But I do miss the way she smelled.”
“I can still smell her on her pillow,” a slightly slurred deep rumbling voice fills the room.
I look up to see LaSalle staring at me. His dark hair is rumpled and hanging in his forehead. His black dress shirt is untucked and partially unbuttoned showing off his tanned, chiseled chest. He looks a sexy mess.
I knit my brows at the look in his eyes. He’s studying me as if seeing me for the first time. I turn away quickly, chiding myself for my foolish thoughts.
“Come on, Baby,” LaSalle rumbles. “Sammy is already in our bed. I think mommy would like it if you slept on her side.”
Jessica hops out of my arms and runs over to her father. She pauses for a moment and looks back for Megan. A torn look crosses her face. Her father picked up on her dilemma.
“We’ll bring your sister,” he offers, but when he steps forward I can see he is too drunk to carry the sleeping little girl.
“I’ll bring her,” I say and stand.
When I turn with Megan on my right side, holding her little body with my good arm, LaSalle has a perplexed look on his face. He pressed his lips and nods as I move forward. I wonder what he’s thinking, as I follow them down the hall.
LaSalle opens the door for us to walk in and I’m blown away by the feel of Ellen’s presence. I completely get Sammy’s need to be in here every night. Jess runs to the bed and climbs in next to her brother.
LaSalle turns to me and reaches for Megan. I lift a brow at him, but he gives me a pointed look, looking at my injured shoulder and pressing his lips. I’m watching him sway before me.
“Give me my baby, Tasha,” he growls low. “I can take care of my children.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Then act like it,” I snap in a whisper, handing Megan over.
LaSalle cradle his little girl to his chest. The hard glare he’s giving me says a million words. I think we have both just crossed a line. I don’t punk out though. I glare right back.
“They need you. They need to see you. I’m not their mother,” I hiss and feel like a bitch as soon as I do.
I see the hurt that fills his eyes. He stumbles back a little and sways. I reach for Megan once again, but LaSalle jerks back nearly falling over.
“You have no idea what I’m doing to keep you safe,” he snarls. “Don’t you ever try to judge me.”
“Forget about me. If you need to neglect these babies for me, then don’t worry about me. I don’t need you to protect me,” I’m just digging a deeper hole and I can see it with each word.
The hurt in his grey eyes is almost palpable. I feel like shit. I search for a better way to say what I mean. I understand that my safety is connected to so much more. LaSalle’s name and family’s name rest on us not fucking up this mess we’ve started with Misha.
I’m not ungrateful. Yes, I feel trapped, but I’m so grateful to LaSalle for stepping in to help. I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t appreciate that.
“Get out,” he hisses back at me.
“Sam, I—,”
“I said, get out,” he hisses again and Megan starts to stir.
I nod and turn. My heart breaks when I hear his sob as I reach the door. I think of turning back, but don’t even know what to say.
Great job, Mo.