Lucky 13 (Deadlines & Diamonds) Read online

  Those damn tears threatened again when Matt took Ricky’s hand and shook it. The first tear glided down her cheek when Ricky looked at her and smiled.

  The edge of his business card cut into her palm and she glanced down at it again. The black and white letters went wavy. She shook her head. She didn’t have time for this crap. Getting emotional about a guy she didn’t know only introduced drama to the steaming pile of shit that was her life. Yeah, she didn’t have time for any of it.

  Men could never be counted on.

  The word was synonymous with disappointment.

  And Shayne was seriously tired of being disappointed.

  2

  It’d been a really long night. Shayne’s feet ached and, as she kicked off her heels, she looked forward to crawling into bed and not dreaming of Enrique Santiago.

  Damn man.

  Her cell phone rang. She looked at the clock and frowned. It was after ten o’clock and the only people who might choose to reach out and touch her were under the same roof.

  She fished her Android out of the recesses of her purse. Her heart sank when her attorney’s number showed on the screen. She slumped down onto the edge of the mattress. “Hello?”

  Megan spoke quietly. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I thought you’d want to know we lost, Shayne. You have to be out in fifteen days.”

  “Isn’t there anything—” She stopped when her voice broke.

  “No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

  Tears tracked down her cheeks, dripping off her chin to splatter on her lap, darkening the red to maroon. She shouldn’t be surprised. Truth was, she wasn’t. She knew she would lose the diner, lose her home.

  She hit the end button on the phone and tossed it on the bed. It bounced once before thudding to the floor. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Her throat tightened up. Her eyes burned with tears.

  “Shayne.”

  Great. Just great. She tried to smile at her brother as he opened the door to the room he’d given her for the night. “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?” Concern darkened his eyes. “And don’t even try to say you’re fine.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and forced it out through rounded lips. X stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, a don’t-lie-to-me expression on his face. When she only stared at him, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He came over to sit on the bed next to her.

  “Whatever it is, Shayne, it’ll be okay. I’m here. Forever. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

  Despite her attempts otherwise, she choked on a sob and blubbered the long, depressing story. “…and now I have fifteen days to get out of my home, my diner, my only source of income, my…home.”

  Another sob gagged her. She dropped her head into her hands and released all the emotions she’d managed to keep under wraps. When strong hands took her by the shoulders, pulling her into the solid body, she didn’t fight the comfort. She laid her head against the strength of his chest and lost herself in the steady pace of his heartbeat. In a world where she spun out of control, her brother seemed to be the only thing keeping her grounded.

  He stroked her hair, much like he did when she’d been a little girl. In fact, if she were to stand across the room and witness the scene, it was eerily similar to the way he used to succor her all those years ago.

  How could she have possibly forgotten?

  She leaned back and looked up into the face of her brother. Of course he’d changed from the twelve-year-old boy he’d been when her mother ran from their father. The irony of Matt being twelve now wasn’t lost on her.

  X smiled. “You okay?”

  She nodded the lie she couldn’t voice.

  He chuckled, deep and low, recognizing her inability to talk. “The way I see it, first things first; we need to get you a place to live.” He waved a hand. “Problem solved.”

  “No.” Her head shook so hard her brain hurt from the jarring. “No way. I’ve been on my own for way too long to move in on your turf. No. I’ll find another way.”

  His non-argument surprised her. He stood and began to pace, then went over to the window, cracked the blinds and stared out into the darkness. His big shoulders lifted, dropped. His chest expanded, contracted. He turned.

  “Okay.” He crossed his arms again. “I understand your need for independence. But you need a place to stay. I will not allow you to struggle financially when I have enough to support you and Matt for the rest of your lives.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick his money.

  He held up a hand. “Hear me out.” He waited for her to nod. “I have a place downtown. It’s fully furnished, so we could put your stuff in storage, or we can move every stick currently in the place into a storage unit, your choice.”

  “I appreciate your offer, but—”

  “But nothing, Shayne. No sister of mine will be homeless and that’s where you’re gonna end up since I’m guessing you’re not independently wealthy. The IRS wouldn’t be taking everything if you were.”

  Anger boiled in her blood. She shot to her feet and stomped over to stand in front of him, glaring up into his non-negotiable stare.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Matthias Xavier.” She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “I’m a grown-ass woman, capable of making my own damn decisions. So you can take your masculine arrogance and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  He bit his lip, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away his amusement. Instead of slapping him, she whirled and stomped away. His enormous hand clamped onto her forearm. She paused, more because she was exhausted than heeding to his will, but didn’t face him.

  “I’m sorry.” Deep breath. “I’m sorry.” Deeper breath. “You’re right.”

  As her angry haze cleared, images coursed through her head of Matt living in deplorable places, doing disgusting things, becoming just like—

  Unacceptable.

  Looked like she didn’t have any other options. “So, you have a place?”

  “Yeah. It’s downtown and it’s all yours. It’s been for sale, but I can’t sell the damn thing. I guess somebody higher up knew I’d need it. You’d need it.”

  “I won’t take your charity.”

  “No charity.” He gently encouraged her to turn around with soft pressure on her elbow. She conceded. The concern in his eyes caused a lump to form in her throat. “You can live there for as long as you want. As soon as you find a job, we’ll discuss rent, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Relief, thick and living, rained over his features. “What kind of job do you think you want?”

  She tried not to smile as she said, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be a stripper.”

  He groaned and walked out of the room without another word.

  ***

  To say Ricky wasn’t a morning person would be the greatest understatement one could make. He hated every part of saying hello to the sunrise; the light spearing his eyeballs, the intense need to pee, leaving the warm cocoon of his down comforter. Yep, every damned part of it. Yet when the annoying sound of his brother’s ringtone took on the part of alarm clock, Enrique Santiago felt the need to roar and bury the thing into the drywall.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re still asleep?”

  At the accusation, Ricky rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s seven twelve.”

  “And your lazy ass is still in bed.”

  He bit back his frustration and simply shook his head. Some things didn’t change no matter how many pages were pulled from the calendar. His brother, older by twelve years, still treated him like the child he’d been when their father passed away twenty years ago.

  “What do I owe for this pleasant wake-up call?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Anytime his brother said those words, it meant Ricky was about to be confronted by all his faults—new as well as ones long buried—and the dis
appointment it caused Eddie and their mother.

  “Okay. Why don’t you meet me for lunch? My treat.”

  Eddie’s bark mocked. “Get some sleep, pretty boy. I’ll see you at eleven thirty at Mama’s.” The line went dead.

  Perfect! Instead of a neutral locale, Eddie intended to take their conversation right to Mama’s front door. Or corner booth, as the case was.

  Shit. He slammed his fist into the pillow and attempted to go back to sleep. Like that would be possible. He really needed to find his balls and deal with his brother man to man.

  Maybe today would be that day. Yeah, probably not.

  It wasn’t that he enjoyed being told he was a shit-sandwich, some things just were the way they were. As it stood, Ricky didn’t have the energy to blow up the happy-little-family façade.

  He tried to go back to sleep, but his brain kicked up his brother’s condescending accusations, his ever present displeasure. No chance of Ricky’s ego getting too big, he had his brother to keep him humble.

  Ricky clamped his eyes closed tighter. “Dammit!”

  Another slam of his fist against feathers did little to relieve his stress. Only two things had a chance to alleviate the tension bunching his shoulders. And sex wasn’t an option at the moment.

  Ten minutes later, dressed in workout clothes, Ricky grabbed his keys. The off-season meant using a local gym instead of the one at the stadium. Not his first choice, but until he could finish his workout room, he made the sacrifice.

  The drive to the gym took all of a few minutes. He put his stuff in a locker and was on the treadmill when an irritation in the form of a surgically altered body covered by spandex stepped onto the machine next to him.

  From her long bleached ponytail to the latest gimmick pretending to be shoes, she dressed for hook-ups not workouts. She smiled, her collagen lips making him think of a blowfish.

  “Hi.” She hit start and walked along at a clip that could qualify her in the Geriatric Olympics. “I’ve seen you around here before.”

  He just nodded and wished he’d brought his iPod along.

  “Aren’t you—”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Whoever you think I am, I’m not.”

  “But—”

  “I’m just some average, every day guy tryin’ to get his workout in. Uninterrupted.”

  Her smile faltered, her botoxed features fell, and he felt like a total ass. He hated when people put him in the position of having to blow them off. In the very beginning of his career, he got off on the attention, but learned real quick the chicks stroking his ego only wanted to stroke other parts of him. And he preferred to remain disease free, thank you very much.

  He upped the speed on his treadmill. She lowered hers until the tread stopped. He considered apologizing, until she crossed the gym and hopped onto a stationary bike—right next to another average, every day guy. Except that guy flashed her a quick smile before checking out her double-D’s. He stretched back, flexing his chest and arms.

  What a chump.

  Ricky finished his workout, ran a few errands and strolled into Mama’s early. She looked up from where she’d been wiping the countertops with a white rag. Her dark eyes sparkled and a huge grin lit up her gracefully aging face.

  “Enrique, mijo. What a surprise.” She hurried around the counter and wrapped him in a tight squeeze. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some of your favorite carne asada. I can—”

  “Is Eddie around?”

  Her black brows drew together. “I haven’t seen him. Is he…are you—”

  “He asked me to meet him for lunch.”

  Curses in Spanish coated the air around them. She stomped her foot and continued to lay her tongue to south-of-the-border profanity as she paced. Breath raced from her lungs. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Ricky worried about her when she let her temper spike. She circled the counter and took a long draw on a glass of water.

  Still breathing hard, but calmer, she came to stand in front of him, hands on thin hips. “You don’t have to take his crap, Enrique. My crap, you take. His, you don’t.”

  Theoretically, she wasn’t saying anything new. She’d been offering him the same mantra for years. Hearing the advice and putting it into practice were two different things.

  Just then the bell dinged, announcing a visitor. Ricky didn’t have to turn around to see who’d come in, Mama’s grunt and sharp pointed finger, said it all.

  “Kitchen, now,” she told Eddie then turned on her heel, marching through the swinging doors.

  Eddie glared as he walked past him and into the back. Ricky didn’t stick around to hear the hushed, heated difference of opinion about to erupt. He went to the very back corner of the diner and slid onto the bench that was Eddie’s favorite.

  Ricky slid his finger over the aged Formica and smiled when he found the rough patch where he’d had to buff out his initials. He’d been eight. Eddie had been twenty…and furious!

  “Long time, no see, handsome.”

  Ricky smiled and glanced up into the face belonging to the husky, made-for-sex voice. “Hey, how you been?”

  “Good.” Teresa Sanchez had been his first kiss, his first girlfriend. Hell, she’d been his first at a lot of things. The neighborhood had them married before they’d hit puberty.

  Things changed.

  “I’m real good.” She wiped her palms on the tiny white apron covering her shorty-shorts. “You heard I got divorced.”

  “I did hear something like that.” He pretended to care. “Congratulations?”

  “He was a ningún buen hijo de tu puta madre.” She shrugged. “We’re better off without him.”

  Ricky couldn’t agree more. The guy had always been a “no good sonofabitch”, but Teresa made her choice. He suspected now, looking back, that she’d done it on purpose. She must have known Ricky hadn’t seen her in his future. All he could see was baseball diamonds and dollar signs. He didn’t have time for an overemotional girl with attachment issues.

  She held her arms wide. “Get on up here and give me a proper hello.”

  He slid out to give her a hug. She grabbed on tight, giggling like an obsessed child. “It’s been too damn long, Ricky.” She whipped the rag off her shoulder and smacked him with it. “You too good for us now?”

  “Never.”

  “Get us a couple of waters, Teresa.” Eddie’s eyes sparked with the disgust in his tone. “Then will you check on Mama? She’s in the kitchen.”

  “What’d you do this time, Eddie?”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted his dismissal.

  Ricky waited until Teresa pushed through the swinging doors before glaring at his brother. “I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

  “We got other things to talk about.” Eddie rapped his knuckles against the table to bring Ricky’s attention back from the kitchen doors. “You still got problems keeping your mind on the task at hand.”

  “And you still got problems being an ass.”

  Eddie tipped his head like he had water in his ears and was trying to clear it out. “What’d you just say to me?”

  Ricky leaned forward, linking his knuckles to keep from pummeling his older, out-of-shape brother. “You beckoned. I came. Now what do you want?”

  “You need to pull your weight.” Dark eyes bored into Ricky.

  “What, you want money?”

  “No, asshole.” Eddie closed the distance until they were face to face across the table. “We don’t want your money. Mama raised us to work hard for our money. Just because you get to play to get a paycheck doesn’t mean I want the handout. And Mama does just fine without your help.”

  Ricky didn’t bother to tell his brother he had been supplementing Mama’s income for as long as he’d been making money. Nor did he rise to his brother’s baiting.

  “Fine. You don’t want my money.”

  Glasses of water landed hard on the tabletop, droplets splashing out on Eddie’s arm. Teresa smiled at his snarled disgust. “Can I get yo
u something?”

  Eddie waved a hand. “Just some privacy.”

  Teresa took his attitude in stride, flipping him off before walking away.

  “Look, Eddie, just cut to the chase and tell me what the hell your problem is this time.”

  “You need to pull your weight.”

  Why did Ricky feel so tired all of a sudden? “Yeah, you said that.”

  “DJ went off to school.”

  “So, your son went off to college. What’s that got to do with me?”

  “You’re in the off season.”

  “I’m done playing for a few months, yeah.” Like a photo coming into focus, Ricky began to see the picture clear as day. “So?”

  “So…you see that truck out there?” Eddie pointed out the giant pane of glass to the white box truck parked out front. “Santiago and Sons. There’s an ‘s’ at the end I feel like you’d rather forget exists. You own half that company.”

  “You want my half?” Ricky sat back in the booth and held up his hands. “You want my half, you can have it.”

  The vein in Eddie’s temple pulsed. “You think I can’t buy you out?”

  Ricky chuckled, relieved. “Buy me out? Hell, I’ll give it to you.”

  Red definitely didn’t look good on his brother. “I don’t want your damn charity.”

  A couple patrons on the other side of diner glanced over at Eddie’s raised voice. He looked back and smiled, waved. He cleared his throat.

  “I can’t do it all myself.” His lips pursed, turning white against the red pallor caused by his anger. “With DJ gone, I can’t do it by myself.”

  Ricky choked on a laugh. “That’s the most pathetic attempt at asking for help I’ve ever heard.”

  Eddie snorted, then chuckled. It’d been a long time since Ricky had heard it, and judging by the look on Eddie’s face, it’d been a while for him, too. “Yeah, I’m askin’ for your help. Please.”

  “I’ve got some time. You have to give me plenty of notice and you are not allowed to be a dick.” Ricky stuck out his hand. “Turn into a dick and I walk. End of story.”

  His soft murmured, “Thank you,” shocked the hell out of Ricky. Their palms met, sealing their agreement.