unForgivable (An inCapable World Novel Book 2) Read online

  Damien wins.

  “Shit! Damien, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He raises an eyebrow and smiles as if to tell me he’s okay, but then his nose starts to bleed. “Did I do that?” I don’t know how I could have. Did my head hit his face? I don’t even remember.

  Carrie hands him a cloth and he presses it to his nose. And all the while, this mother fucker is laughing at me.

  “You certainly have Mona’s temper, I’ll give you that.”

  “Who the hell are you? You here to spy for the Dantes? Ruin Mona’s celebration?”

  “Not at all. I think you’ve got things wrong.” He leans forward, pushing out of his seat. He holds out his hand. “Hamish Allen.”

  “Hamish?”

  “You’ve heard of me?”

  I nod.

  “Who is this guy?” Damien asks.

  “Nnn...no one,” I mumble.

  “Really?”

  “Carrie, can you take care of things down here?” I ask.

  She shrugs and backs away, turning her focus on the people left, who now watch us with their complete attention.

  “We need to talk,” I say to Hamish, as I usher him to the kitchen.

  He has a swagger to his walk, like he’s big and bulky and wants everyone to notice. I eye him, noting everything about him, as I try to figure him out. His flesh is clean. Not a single tattoo. But he looks hard with a crooked nose and some scars on his forehead. He’s seen more than his fair share of fights. I even see a pink line across his arm that’s probably the length of one of my fingers, with dots on the side that suggest stitches. Stab wound? Maybe. His hair is long and braided down the back, highlighted with streaks of gray.

  Damien grabs my elbow and forces me to stop. “Beth, do you even know him? And you’re going off to talk to him alone?”

  “It’ll be okay,” I say, and stretch up on my tiptoes to peck him on his cheek.

  His loosens his grip around my arm and his hands fall to his sides. Frowning, he shakes his head at me. “I don’t like this.”

  “Trust me,” I say quietly. “And don’t go anywhere.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I offer Hamish another drink as we sit at Mona’s kitchen island staring at one another.

  “You wanted to talk,” he says, taking a sip of his whiskey.

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you.” His voice is gravelly and deep, the voice of a man who’s probably smoked a pack a day since he came out of diapers.

  “Not your name. I want to know who you were to my aunt.”

  “I’m offended she never mentioned me.”

  “Well, it seems she kept a lot from me, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  “What about Mickey?” he asks.

  “You knew my uncle, too?”

  “Knew?”

  I bite my lip, cursing myself for giving too much away, but it’s too late to put the cat back in the bag now.

  He swirls the ice around his glass. “How’d he die?”

  “Oh, no. You tell me who you are first and then I’ll decide if I wanna share.”

  He tugs on his ear. “You really do look like her. Or like she used to.” He sets his glass down and reaches into a deep pocket on the inside of his leather jacket. “This is for you.”

  I take the envelope he hands me and tap it against my other hand, eyeing him like he’s the enemy. But then my curiosity wins out. I rip through the sealed end and open it wide to find two passports inside. “Passports?” I pull them out and hold them up. When I open the first I see my picture, the same one I have on my current passport, only it’s not my name typed neatly below. “Clara Emily Brightmore?”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t pick the name.”

  “Who did?”

  “Your aunt, of course.”

  I pull out the other passport. “Why do I need two?” Again, no answer. I open it up and make a face. This one doesn’t have my picture; it has Damien’s. “Lucas Arthur Simon?”

  “I didn’t pick that one either, in case you were curious.”

  “I’m so confused. Why did she have passports made for me and Damien?”

  “So you could fly far away from here, Little Bird.”

  “What did you call me?” My voice is a whisper. I never thought anyone would call me that again, that the name would be buried with Mona. On his lips, it should feel wrong, but there is something tender about his words. And his tone is the same as Mona’s was whenever she said it. I swallow a lump in my throat and though I want to respond, I have no words. I don’t even know what to say. He’s rendered me speechless.

  “Your aunt knew her days were numbered and she wanted you to be able to make a clean break. Especially if things got bad.”

  “But Damien? Why make a passport for Damien? Why not Declan? Or Mickey?”

  “Well, it’s a good thing she chose who she chose or you’d be flying solo.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I say, tossing the passports on the counter.

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

  His jaw widens as he clenches his teeth. “I’m the man who taught your uncle everything he knew. The man your aunt ran to when her prick husband beat her for doing stupid shit. And the man who helped her bury that same prick husband.”

  “You were there when she killed him?”

  He makes a face. “That what she said?”

  “She never told me anything. I had to hear it from Mickey.” Something in the way he glances at me sideways as he takes another drink…brings me to a surprising revelation. Mona didn’t kill Ralph. It was Hamish.

  “You loved her?” I ask quietly.

  He shrugs. “As much as a guy like me can love anyone.”

  “I thought you were here because of the Dantes.”

  “Don’t worry about it, kid. Takes a lot to offend me and I ain’t in the habit of killing women if I don’t have to.”

  “Um…thank you?”

  He laughs out loud now.

  “You said she knew her days were numbered. How could she have known what was going to happen?”

  “Because of the cancer,” he says, throwing it out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But as the words hang in the air, he quickly realizes his misstep. “You didn’t know?”

  I pull my head back like I’ve been slapped. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Ugh…I’m sorry, kid. I thought she would have told you above anyone else.”

  “I’ll just add it to the growing list of things she kept from me.”

  “She had maybe a year, if that. Didn’t surprise me much to hear she told the Dantes she killed her husband. I suspect she did it to make sure I never got thrown into the mix. She always did feel guilty about what we did, even though the guy was an asshole.”

  “How is that you’ve been…close…to her this long and I knew nothing about you?”

  “The Dantes and I go way back. They wouldn’t have liked her hanging around me, especially after her husband died. And before that, I needed to stay away so Ralph didn’t get suspicious. He was always looking for a reason to take me on. But his brother Jimmy and I were friends, once upon a time, so I think he kept Ralph in check.”

  “Hmm. I’m really glad you could make it today. She would have wanted you here.”

  “I suppose so.” He takes another drink. “And what will you do now? You going to take those passports and fly off into the sunset?”

  I scoff at him. “No. I have things to do first.”

  “Is that so?”

  I refuse to look at him, and yet he knows.

  “Hope you’re not planning on taking revenge.”

  “How…?”

  “That’s who we are, isn’t it? We don’t let things go. We want retribution.” He sighs. “Your aunt wanted something different for you, but we can’t run from who we are, can we?”

  “I promised.”

  “Mickey?” he chuckl
es at me. “Mickey was a selfish bastard who only helped others when it served his purposes. And you’re going to honor a promise to him? When your aunt clearly wanted something different for you?”

  That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? I loved them both. One wanted me to leave and the other wanted me to stay. I force a smile and change topics. I don’t want to have this conversation right now and I don’t intend on having it with a stranger, even if we both loved Mona. “Thank you for everything. Especially for helping me know my aunt a little better.”

  “Kid, I don’t know why she never told you about the cancer. Maybe she found it hard to be honest about it. She wouldn’t even take the damn treatments. I don’t know if she thought she was strong enough to beat it without help.” He scratches his head. “Or maybe she was too stubborn to admit she wasn’t invincible. Who knows? We all got to go sometime, right?”

  Hmm. I nod in agreement and show him to the door, hugging the passports close to my chest. They’re the last gift she’ll ever give me. I watch him thump down the stairs and as he reaches the bottom, Damien appears. Hamish waits as Damien steps out of the way and when Hamish is gone, Damien climbs up the stairs to meet me.

  “She had cancer,” I say quietly.

  He reaches out to steady me, putting his arm around my waist while the other rises to rest against the side of my neck. I could turn away from him and be alone with my thoughts and sadness, but I don’t want that.

  I want him.

  He rubs my back, soothing me with a shushing sound that an adult would make to calm a baby. “What do you need?”

  I look down and choke out the word, “You.”

  He reaches up a hand to caress my cheek. “I need you, too,” he says, before leaning in to press a soft kiss on my nose. Still holding each other, we walk inside the apartment, shutting the door behind us.

  We break away from each other, but hold hands. I lead him to the same room I used to sleep in before I moved out a few years back. It’s the same as I left it, pop star posters on the wall and all. I let go as I reach my bed, shedding my top and skirt. When I turn, he appraises me. He explores every inch of me with his eyes and then presses his hand to my heart before his fingers trace a line between my breasts and down my stomach. His touch is feather-fine, just faint enough for me to recognize it and yearn for more.

  I gasp at his delicate touch and my head falls back. I try to steal a kiss from him but he pulls away each time I try. His resistance infuriates me and makes me want him more. I try again, more forcefully this time, but it makes him more determined. He pushes me back and I fall on the bed, bouncing lightly.

  I crawl backward, working my way to the head of the bed, but he grips my ankle and yanks me back down, closer. He takes my hand in his and with his other, he unzips his pants, urging me to touch him.

  I do as he wants. In fact, I couldn’t be more eager. If only life could be like this. Touching…teasing…pleasing. I could spend every moment like this, absorbed by him and nothing else.

  I slide my hand up and down his shaft, first slow, then fast. He groans and when I look up, his eyes are closed and his head has fallen forward, enjoying my easy strokes. I slide his pants down with my other hand and let go with the other as he steps out of them.

  He pushes on my shoulders, climbing on top of me as he forces me onto my back. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers in my ear, his breath like a warm caress, tickling me. The hairs on my back stand on end as he rubs against me. I push back, and he’s hard against my nub. He breaks away just long enough to slide on a condom. Then he lowers his hand between us to guide himself to my entrance. My eyes roll back and my whole body sighs as he slides inside of me.

  I sink into the bed, my muscles relaxing with the feel of him moving on top of me. Closeness. I love this feeling, of someone joined with me, loving me, if only my body. But as he looks down at me, refusing to let me look away, I feel that it’s more than that. I mean, I know it is, but I can actually feel it as he pushes deeper. This isn’t just sex. It’s not love—not yet. But I’m in danger of it. And the thought brings tears to my eyes.

  But I don’t let them fall.

  Try as I may, I can’t hide their presence on the tips of my lashes and he lowers his head to press his forehead against mine. “We’ll get past this,” he says, reassuring me.

  “I just don’t know if it’s possible.”

  “I love proving people wrong.”

  “Prove me wrong, Damien,” I say before I find myself reaching my sweet release. “Please.”

  We lay side by side, warm and sated. The smell of sex is in the air and it makes me dizzy—but in a good way. I could have him again. And again. But then I fear I might be in danger of never stopping. Sex with Damien is unforgettable. I’m not sure if there’s anything better.

  “Hungry?” he asks.

  “Starved.”

  “Hang on.” He tosses the covers aside and stands, crossing the room in nothing except what he was born with.

  “Impressive,” I say, teasing him as I stare at his cock.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told that before.”

  “I bet.”

  When he returns, he has a small tub of ice cream in hand and a couple of spoons. He pulls off the lid and we dive in. Heavenly hash. And it’s exactly as advertised.

  “This is good,” he says.

  “It’s my favorite.” I swallow a mouthful and lick my spoon clean, making sure he watches me as I try to be seductive. If he were any other guy, I would feel confident about creating a mood and turning him on. It would be a game of cat and mouse. I would be on my toes and constantly fighting for the man’s attention. But with Damien...my cheeks are on fire and I’m trying hard not to laugh at myself. I don’t have to be that person anymore.

  “Do that again?” he teases.

  I shake my head. “What about you?” I ask. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Vanilla.”

  “That’s kind of boring,” I say.

  “You think? Vanilla can be sexy,” he says, winking at me.

  “Don’t you like to switch it up?” I ask.

  “Offer me another flavor and I promise I’ll enjoy it.”

  Now, I laugh out loud. I pick up a pillow and hit him in the chest. Clearly, we’ve abandoned the topic of ice cream.

  “Sometimes I like to let it melt a little before I attack it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Personally, I like it hard.”

  He raises an eyebrow and then his cheeks turn crimson before he looks away and breaks out into a laugh. I swear I’ve never seen anything more endearing on a man than a smile that’s so big his eyes practically disappear. “Enough about ice cream,” he says.

  He repositions himself, covering his middle with the floral sheets but still leaving his leg exposed. It’s the one that’s both tattooed and scarred. I never did ask him about it and when he catches me staring, I can’t look away quick enough. I wanted to ask him about it when I first saw it and now, I feel comfortable enough to ask without feeling awkward.

  His eyes gloss over, as he gets this faraway stare. “IED,” he says. “We were in a convoy and the vehicle in front of us got blown up. I took some shrapnel to the leg and some to the face.”

  I touch the pink line on his face with the tips of my fingers. “Oh my God.”

  He rolls his leg to the side enough for me to see the entire now-healed wound. “An inch to the right and it would have severed an artery. Took me months of rehab.”

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “Yeah, that and Mona asked me to. She got pretty upset when I told her. Said she didn’t build a friendship with me for me to die in ‘butt fuck nowhere’ without family.”

  I smile as I imagine what her facial and hand gestures would be like as she delivered these words.

  “You remember when I said Mona didn’t like anyone?”

  He nods.

  “I get it now. She couldn’t help but love you. At first, I’m sure sh
e just wanted to help you. But then she got to know you and she didn’t stand a chance. You would thaw even the coldest heart.”

  He takes his thumb and presses it to my lips. I kiss it and then he strokes them, making me sigh and tingle just about everywhere. I drape my arm over his middle and cuddle up against him.

  “I saw her a couple of weeks ago—when I first came back—she came at me like she meant to hug me. I didn’t expect that.”

  “And did she?”

  “No, I think she changed her mind. Punched me in the stomach instead.”

  I chuckle with him and reach over for the ice cream, dunking my spoon to search for some of the marshmallow.

  “It’ll never be the same without her,” he says.

  “No,” I say with a sigh. “Or without Mickey.”

  He clears his throat and takes another bite.

  “Did Mona ever talk about Mickey with you?”

  He steals my spoon and puts a scoop in his mouth.

  I elbow him.

  He swallows and pauses for a beat. “She didn’t say much, but I got the feeling that…they were blood and that was it. I don’t know if she had a lot of love for him.”

  “I’m starting to wonder, myself.”

  “She told me if something happened to you that I might need to protect you from him. And I think she was right because…”

  “Because of what he made me promise?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I hug him a little tighter.

  “You don’t owe him anything.”

  I bite at my lip and close my eyes. He runs his hand through my hair. I’m sure it’s tangled and a mess but I’m beyond caring right now. My makeup is probably all over the place, too. Any other guy and I’d excuse myself and freshen up. But not Damien.

  “He saved me more times than I can count,” I say.

  “He was family. He was supposed to be there for you. And he should have done it without expecting anything in return.”

  I know what he says is true, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt I carry in my heart. I had one chance to save him, like he’d done for me, and instead of doing what I knew was right, I listened to him and I let his poor judgment cloud my own. I could have saved him. But I let him die. Like Mona, he believed he didn’t need a doctor to help him live. He thought he was invincible and he could pull through.