Page 3 of Legacy
So Duke coming up to see if I was okay was surprising. We didn’t do warm and fuzzy here. We didn’t do talking about feelings. It was one of the reasons I had come back.
“I’m not really in a talking mood.”
Reaching over the bar, he plucked the bourbon bottle and placed it between us. Not a word left his lips as he topped up my glass and poured himself one. He didn’t speak until after he had taken his first sip. “Glad to hear it, brother, because I’m not really in the mood to listen.”
I side-eyed him. If he could feel my eyes on him, he didn’t mention it.
The liquid left a trail of fire down my throat as I downed it in one.
“How do you know about the flowers?” What I wanted to know was how he knew about Kate, but I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like the answer.
He shrugged. “It’s my job to know everything that’s going on in this club, Legacy. Most of it doesn’t interest me.” He took a long swig of his drink. “But the fact that you send flowers once a year to a pretty little piece of ass—”
I shot around. My hands balled into fists at my side. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that!” My chest heaved as I struggled to stay in control. “Kate is… She’s…”
Holding up his hands in a mock surrender that didn’t fool me in the slightest, Duke's eyes never left my face and his easy-going smile never left his. But he was ready for whatever I threw at him.
“I didn’t say she was anything, Legacy.” He paused. “What is she, some kind of ex-girlfriend? Someone special? I heard about what happened last year at the bar.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.” There didn’t seem to be much more to say about that particular day. Kate had made her feelings about the flowers I sent her every year perfectly clear when she hit me around the head with them. It had been, in some people's opinion, the highlight of Chance's wedding. “Yeah, she's special,” I added as an afterthought.
“Then why the stalker flowers? Why not just go and tell her how you feel?”
I turned to him, confusion clouding my judgement. Or maybe it was the drink. It was hard to know anymore. “What are you talking about? Feelings?”
Duke laughed. “The girl. You obviously care about her, and I’m just saying….”
“She’s Paul’s widow.” I went back to drinking. Because it was a hell of a lot easier to drink than trying to explain to anyone why I sent flowers to the widow of my best friend when I should have been there for her and Conner. I wasn’t quite ready to admit out loud how guilty I still felt. How guilty I would always feel.
“Your marine buddy who died?” Duke's voice dropped. The sympathy in it was so thick I could have cut it with a knife.
I hated that. Hated the sympathy in everyone’s tone.
I nodded “Yeah.”
“Shit, I’m sorry brother.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “She blames you for it?”
Did she? I frowned. Truth was, I didn’t know what or who Kate blamed for Paul’s premature death. I had spoken to her exactly twice in the last ten years: at the funeral and last year when she had told me to stop sending the damn flowers.
“I blame me,” I said quietly. Duke didn’t say a word. I couldn’t even be sure he had heard me, so I repeated myself, louder this time.
“Doesn’t matter if she blames me. I blame myself.”
Chapter Three
Kate
Tristan and Tony Hunter didn’t even look up at me as I moved between the tables on my walk to the one they sat at in the back of the dark club. It was still light outside, but you wouldn’t have known it. The place was dark, lit only by the pink and purple flashing lights aimed over the stage.
It stank as well. Sweat. Stale alcohol. And under that, there was the stench of sex mixed with the overpowering floral perfumes the dancers were clearly dousing themselves in.
The only thing that could get rid of the stink of the place was a thorough cleaning. Something I doubted had happened in a very long time by the state of the floors.
Although, even the deepest of cleans would be unlikely to rid the filth that seemed to pervade the very air. Maybe it would have been better if the place burnt down. They would definitely make more money if they burned it down and collected the insurance money. It was a dive and an empty one at that.
“Excuse me?” Coming to a halt, I curled my fingers around the chair nearest me. I didn’t want them to see how much I was shaking and I needed the stability to hold my nerve. Neither of them even turned their faces towards me. Their eyes were glued to the tits of the girl swinging off the pole on a small stage. And she was a girl. One look at her and I knew she was too young. College-age at best. At worst? I hoped like hell she wasn’t still in school.
I swallowed hard. She had to be legal, right? She didn’t look much older than Conner, and he was just a kid. A tall overgrown kid, but a kid, nevertheless
