Untamed Love. Lindsay Evans
had done some crazy things before the accident, partying hard with kids with more money and less responsibilities, kids whose parents lived in a higher tax bracket and played outside the boundaries of the law, knowing that their parents could get them out of trouble if necessary.
Mella tried to warn him about what could happen, but he didn’t listen. Then he was in jail, and his so-called friends disappeared from his life as if they’d never been there. Mella and Aunt Jess had been trying to pick up the pieces over the years. And now that he’d served his minimum sentence and was eligible for parole, Mella and her aunt crossed their fingers that the prison system would let him go. Shaun was only twenty-four. He had spent so many of his prime years in prison.
“Do you need some company tonight?” Mella asked. “I can make us that lasagna you like.”
Although her aunt lived in a decent-sized house on Key Biscayne and often had her housekeeper make meals for her for the week, Mella knew she’d appreciate the offer.
Her aunt nodded. “That would be nice.” She balled up the empty sandwich bag in a delicate fist while Mella finished the last of the chips. “A vegetarian lasagna?”
Mella shook her head in disgust. “Hell no! What do I look like?”
Her aunt chuckled. “Just checking. You’ve been hanging out a lot with that Nala woman.”
“It’s just work, Aunt Jess. Besides, you should be worrying about her other habits rubbing off on me, not the fact that she doesn’t eat meat.” Nala loved to party, loved to travel to places that weren’t the safest and had a wicked collection of knives in her Wynwood loft.
Her aunt made a noise that was all doubt. “That girl is a bad influence.”
“She’s fine. Just because she doesn’t work doesn’t make her a bad influence.”
“Idle hands, Michaela.”
Mella grinned. It was funny that the only people who called her Michaela were her aunt and Nala, the girl she disapproved of so much. “She’s nice. Once you meet her you’ll see.”
The sound of a whistle pierced the rainy afternoon. A woman stood on a picnic table at the far end of the park waving a green flag. The whistle between her lips shrieked again.
“Break time is over.” Her aunt threw the remnants of lunch in the nearby trash can. “Do you want to do the rest of the ride with me?” she asked. “It’s only another couple of hours, then we head back into the city.”
Mella didn’t even have to think about it. The bike ride would be a distraction from her own obsessions. Specifically the one that wore Victor Raphael’s face. “Sure. I can catch up on my work when I get back.”
At the bike, she took her aunt’s spare helmet, hitched up her already short skirt and climbed on the back of the big, rumbling Harley. The seat was damp under her butt, and the bike’s rumble rattled her teeth. The world beyond the screen of her helmet was still rainy, still cloudy, but it felt good to have her aunt near her, even if they were both carrying their separate worries.
“Lead on, warrior princess,” she called to her aunt, her voice muffled behind the helmet.
“That’s warrior queen to you, girl!” Her aunt opened up the throttle, and they were off.
* * *
The Miami Heat was losing the basketball game, but Victor was having a good time, anyway. He was grateful to Kingsley—again—for dragging him out into the world. He had a lot to do at home—cook, work out, look over the draft of the grant request his sister, Vivian, had sent him. But a phone call from Kingsley had him sitting on the courtside, watching Dwyane Wade try to get his team back on top.
“This might be a lost cause,” Kingsley said. But he sounded disgustingly cheerful over the fact.
Kingsley spent more of his time people-watching and answering texts from his little sister than paying attention to what was happening on the court. The game was good, though. The Pistons were putting on a good show and making the Heat work for every score they got.
“Depends on what cause you’re talking about.” Victor swallowed the last of his sparkling water. “I know I’m having fun watching them get burned for a change. Keeps them humble.”
Victor looked away from the court when Kingsley nudged him.
“Hey, isn’t that the auction honey?” He jerked his head across the court where a trio of women jumped to their feet and cheered along with the crowd to the sudden three-pointer by one of the Heat.
Yes, it was definitely Mella. No need to ask Kingsley who he was talking about. She was with her friends from the auction. This time all three women were dressed more casually. Mella wore a white T-shirt under a bright yellow blazer, and tight jeans clung to her exquisite body. She was as distracting as ever, exchanging high fives with her two friends and laughing in a way that made him wonder what the joke was.
He hadn’t seen her since the afternoon they’d looked over the grounds of Sanctuary together. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking about her. Often. And at the most inconvenient times. Those thoughts made him feel like he was cheating with his friend’s girl. Kingsley never explicitly expressed an interest in Mella, but Victor could see the writing on the wall. They were going to end up together, and he was just going to end up looking stupid.
People were jumping to their feet, whistling, applauding and flagging down the hot dog guys. Halftime.
“Let’s go see what the ladies are up to.” Kingsley stood up. He was apparently anxious to go talk to Mella.
But Victor couldn’t blame him. If he had been the one Mella was interested in, he would already be over there staking his claim, “taste tester” or not. Once she had a taste, maybe she’d discover he was what she craved. He swallowed at the thought. “You go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just chill here.”
He couldn’t bear watching them together from up close. He didn’t want it to be a repeat of their visit to Fever. Not only had it been torture to watch Mella dance with Kingsley and share flirtatious smiles with him, it had also been a social situation he wasn’t quite prepared for. Hundreds of people had crowded him with their sweat and expectations. Women approached him. Men sized him up as competition. The thought of it made his skin crawl a little. But later, when Mella had unexpectedly found him at the downstairs bar, he hadn’t minded as much. There, he’d almost managed to convince himself he was the one she wanted. She’d been a warm and brilliant thing, tempting him with the wet stroke of tongue across her lips, the low hum of her voice as she leaned closer to him at the bar.
He remembered wanting to tug open the buttons of the tiny shirt she wore and just stare at her nipples until they stiffened and ached for his touch. She’d talked about tasting that night, and God, he’d wanted to taste. Later in bed, he’d had particularly vivid dreams.
In the seat next to him, Kingsley glanced at his phone, then shoved it back in his pocket. “You know, not every woman’s waiting around the corner with a shank. Metaphorically speaking.”
Victor winced at the idea that he might be talking about Mella. Was Kingsley really that into her?
But Victor tried to play it off. “Are you saying that with your big head, or the little one?”
Like him, Kingsley had had his share of ruthless women in his life. The only woman he’d been interested in and that actually seemed decent turned out to be his brother’s current wife. She was a woman who seemed ruthless on the outside, all vicious high heels and dry humor. Underneath it all, though, she was a version of sweet. But it turned out she’d also had a thing for Kingsley’s brother, Wolfe, for years before the two of them finally hooked up.
“Don’t be a dick, Vic.” Kingsley grinned at the rhyme, and what he obviously thought was a good joke. “There’s nothing wrong with entertaining a beautiful woman or two for the afternoon. But if you want, I’ll pass along your hellos.”
Just