As Tears Go By

  Nikki reappeared a while later with empty hands. “Carla, go in the pantry and grab the last of the vodka. Becca, where are your shoes?”

  “Why?” she slurred from where she slumped on the couch.

  “We’re going out for ice cream.”

  Oh ice cream! “’Kay. Carla, find my other shoe!”

  “What am I, the lackey?” Carla shouted as she returned holding a bottle of vodka and a shoe.

  “I’m gonna get a sundae,” Becca garbled, though she wasn’t sure how great ice cream would sit in her stomach at the moment. She really should stop drinking.

  Nikki shoved on her shoe and patted her knee. “You can get whatever you want, sweetie. Just don’t puke in my car.”

  “Okeydokey.”

  * * * *

  Finn grinned at his brother. “Thanks for driving us, Colin.”

  “Thanks for waking me up out of a dead sleep. Sammy’s out for blood, by the way. You woke the kids.”

  “Nah, Sammy loves me. She’d never hurt good old Finnegan.”

  “How far’s this diner?” Braydon asked from the backseat where he was wedged between Luke and Tristan. “I’m gonna get me some grits.”

  “We’re almost there. Give him more from the flask, Luke.”

  “Feels like we’ve been drivin’ for hours. I can’t feel my legs.”

  “That’s the whiskey,” Luke commented, handing over the flask.

  “No, he’s feeling my leg.” Tristan nudged him. “Hands to yourself, Drunkenstein.”

  “You guys are the best,” Braydon called out, a stupid grin spread across his face. “Even you, Colin.”

  “How far’s this place?” Colin asked, his hair still rumpled from bed.

  Finn looked at the GPS on his phone. “About thirty more minutes,” he whispered. “Nikki said it’s right off Exit 40.”

  “Exit forty’s far,” Braydon slurred.

  “Shut up,” Finn called into the backseat as he turned up the radio.

  “Then what? We’re just dumping him there?” Colin asked. Colin had been asleep in his bed during the formation of their master plan.

  “Yup. She’s renting a room and sedating Becca with ice cream and vodka. Said she’ll likely pass out by the time we get there with the package.”

  “The package being our brother?”

  “Yup. He probably won’t make it either.” Peeking into the back, he noted Braydon’s eyes looked about ready to close.

  “And then what happens?”

  “We leave them there without cars or money. They can live off room service for the next couple of days until they talk out their problems.”

  “What about clothes?”

  Finn shrugged. “Worse comes to worst, they go naked.”

  When they reached Exit 40 Braydon was snoring like a buzz saw. Finn texted Nikki.

  Is she asleep?

  Out cold. They’re in room 450. Honeymoon suite.

  Colin parked the truck and they all filed out. “How we gonna do this?” Luke asked.

  “You grab his shoulders. Tristan and I will take a leg and Colin can get the doors.”

  “We’re gonna get stopped,” Colin said.

  “If we get caught you two are deaf and Luke and I don’t speak English.”

  Colin rolled his eyes. “Brilliant.”

  “Sí.” Finn smiled.

  As they dragged Braydon out of the backseat his shoe came off. “Should I get that?” Tristan asked.

  “Nah. He ain’t walkin’.”

  He was heavier than they anticipated. Getting him into the elevator wasn’t an easy task. They may have bumped his head a few times, but Finn figured they’d blame any bruises on the booze.

  “Is this the room?” Colin asked.

  The door opened and Carla came out. “What? No Kelly? Now I’m disappointed.”

  Nikki entered the hall. “Holy crap. Is he alive?”

  “Just a little tired,” Finn laughed. “Where’s sleeping beauty?”

  Nikki grinned. “In bed. I took the liberty of hiding her clothes in the safe.”

  “Nice. I like your style,” Finn said as they lugged Braydon’s dead weight across the room.

  Carla lifted the covers. “No peeking at my friend’s derriere unless you show me yours.”

  They tucked Braydon in and removed his wallet. Nikki rummaged around under the covers. When she stood, she held Braydon’s pants. “Fair is fair.”

  The men laughed. “Are we forgetting anything?” Luke asked.

  “Don’t think so. I’ve got her purse and Braydon’s wallet. I only wish I could be a fly on the wall when these two wake up.”

  They quietly backed out of the room and shut the door, stifling their giggles.

  “Now,” Nikki said turning to face the men. “I just want to say, if this doesn’t work out and he hurts my friend, someone’s going to pay.”

  “Pshh,” Luke waved away her threat. “You don’t scare me. I was raised by an Irish mother.”

  Carla shoved Nikki aside and stood with the men. “Okay, have a safe trip back, Nik. I’ll call you when we get there.”

  The men frowned. “Where’s she think she’s going?”

  Grinning up at the men, Carla announced, “O’Malley’s of course.”

  Finn laughed. This must be the one Kelly was afraid of. “Sorry, love, bar’s closed.”

  “That’s okay. I can hide in wait.”

  “Get in the car, Carla,” Nikki snapped.

  “You’re no fun.” She pouted as she left with her sister. “There’s a perfectly good car full of Irishmen and an empty seat. You’re such a kill joy.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sharp pain clamped down on Becca’s skull the moment her sleeping mind roused. Carefully, she breathed through the throbbing in her head, weighing the agony and preparing to open her eyes. She needed a minute.

  Everything was quiet. She must be in Nikki’s house. Her mind scrambled to piece together the previous night’s events, but distorted recollection left her memories a blur. Thank the heavens Kevin had Hunter, because today was going to be debilitation and one for the record books.

  As her mind slowly assessed her body her eyes remained closed, not eager to face the intrusive brightness of morning. Taking a slow account of her state, she grimaced, which hurt like hell. Her fingers brushed her tender belly. Where were her clothes? She didn’t sleep nude, certainly not at her friend’s house. Her hand slid lower.

  Where are my panties?

  Palm gliding over her bare side, she grazed her exposed breasts. She wasn’t wearing a stitch! Her hand flopped to her left and she froze. The sense of something—someone—beside her, giving off immense heat, set her heart into a panic.

  Bracing for the sharp pain, she cracked her eyes. Everything was dark, so dark her ears clung to every identifiable sound. The slow hum of air vents nearby, the stillness of her surroundings, too quiet for a house, her hair scuffing over the starched fabric of the pillows—this echoless silence was not a part of her friend’s house.

  Oh my God, where am I?

  The body next to her was wrapped in a puff of white sheets. She was having some Rip Van Winkle experience or a serious mental break, so she slithered her feet out of the bed, struggling with the tightly tucked linen.

  Her toes made contact with stiff, muted carpet and she slunk like a snake out the bottom of the bed until her body dumped off the edge of the mattress and plopped on the floor with a muffled thud. Her landing reverberated through her skeleton. With no identifiable mark to her surroundings, she quickly sprang to her feet.

  Fear and confusion palpitated through her. A thin beam of light sliced across a tiny pleat in the curtains. Tiptoeing to the window she cracked the panel and gasped.

  I’ve been kidnapped!

  With jagged breath fogging up the chilled glass, she searched for any recognizable landmark. The intruding brightness of morning galvanized her consciousness and panic drilled through her veins. This wasn’t a dream. She was
very far up from the ground in what looked like a hotel.

  Pivoting slowly, her gaze searched through the shadows for any sort of weapon. The lamp was screwed into place so that wouldn’t help. Carefully sliding open a drawer, she found a floppy bible. It would have to do.

  Creeping around the bed, her hand slowly extended until her pinky hooked the edge of the sheet wrapped over her captor’s head. The putrid scent of stale booze wafting from the body intensified the unpleasant sloshing sensation in her stomach. Wait, no, that smell was her. She sniffed and drew back. Maybe it was both of them.

  Through the shadows she couldn’t see much. A masculine arm pinned the pillow over his identifying features. With two delicate fingers, she slowly lifted his wrist.

  The body jolted upwards. Eyes flashed open and her composure left with the subtly of a shotgun. The pillow tossed to the floor, she screamed, lost her balance, and then the bible came down with a defensive whack right across his face.

  He groaned and dropped to his back, clamping his fingers to his nose. “Fuck!”

  She stilled, recognizing that voice. “Braydon?”

  “Becca?” His voice was muffled as his palms cushioned his face. He groaned. “Why did you hit me?”

  “What are you doing here?” Wherever here is.

  He stilled and she gave him a moment to rouse. Maybe he knew where they were or how they got there. “Turn on a light,” he mumbled, still rubbing his face.

  She quickly felt her way back to a lamp, cursing when she stubbed her toe on some anonymous piece of furniture. Distress had momentarily vanquished her hangover, but the second the lamp clicked on with the force of a thousand suns, the pain in her head came hurtling back and she gripped her temples.

  Braydon sat up. “You’re naked.”

  Her hand snatched a pillow off the bed as she scanned the room for her clothing. They were definitely in a hotel. “How did we get here?”

  His gaze locked on her hips. Stomping her foot into the mauve carpet she snapped, “Braydon, eyes up here!”

  “Sorry. I don’t know. Last I remember I was on my way to breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” She frowned. Who was he getting breakfast with? “Why aren’t you naked?”

  He glanced at his shirt and shrugged. Lifting the sheet, he peeked at his legs. “I’m in my underwear.” His brow creased. “And I’m wearing one shoe.”

  “Braydon, what the heck happened last night?”

  His head tilted as he glanced at the ceiling, likely trying to fill in the blank spots of his memory. Were they drugged? Could alcohol really make a person black out like that? How much had they drunk?

  “Give me your shirt,” she said, suddenly needing the bathroom—desperately.

  “Then I’ll be naked.”

  She glared at him and he relented, stripping off his T-shirt and handing it over. The material swallowed her. She tried not to weep at the return of his familiar scent when it surrounded her. Ditching the pillow, she rushed to the bathroom.

  The restroom boasted a glamorous tub and his and hers sinks. Wherever they were it was nice. Her gaze scoured the room, only pausing when she spotted a folded piece of paper perched between the sinks.

  Quickly finishing her business, she rushed to the vanity and snatched the note.

  Good morning love birds.

  We were sick of you two not communicating. You’ve probably noticed by now that Becca is as naked as a jaybird and Braydon is without pants. Your clothes are in the safe and no, we aren’t telling you the code until you work out your issues. There is something for your hangovers next to the two toothbrushes we left. Feel free to abuse room service for all your other needs. Now, play nice.

  Love,

  Nikki, Carla, and all 300 McCulloughs

  Becca brushed her teeth vigorously and washed her face. She really wanted to shower, being that her hair was having its own eighties revival, but they needed to get to the bottom of this first.

  Exiting the bathroom, note pinched between her fingers, she announced, “You can thank your relatives and my friends for dumping us here. Do you have your phone?”

  “I have a shoe and underwear. I can’t find anything.”

  “Our clothes are in the safe.”

  He stood, and Becca shut her eyes, overwhelmed by the reminder of how good Braydon looked in his briefs. Disappearing in the closet, he asked, “What’s the code?”

  “They didn’t say. We’re trapped.”

  “Jesus, my head is killing me. I need a minute.”

  He disappeared in the bathroom and Becca heard him cursing as he fought with the pill bottle. Water ran and the toilet flushed. When he returned he handed her a glass and two capsules. “What time is it?”

  Swallowing the pills, she glanced at the clock. “Ten.” Her nerves were a jittery mess, so she tried to avoid looking directly at him.

  “Did you find our phones?”

  “I can’t even find my purse.”

  “All my stuff’s in my jeans.”

  “Then it’s probably in the safe.”

  He sat on the settee and braced his arms over his knees as they contemplated their situation. “Do you know anyone’s phone number?” he asked.

  All her contacts were in her phone. It had been years since she needed to memorize a number. The only one she knew by heart was Kevin’s cell. “No.”

  “Shit.”

  “There’s no one you can call? I need to get home.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at her for a long moment. Expression hard, he said, “No doubt. I can call my mother.”

  He strutted to the room phone and dialed. They waited.

  “Mum?”

  Maureen’s voice was loud enough for Becca to hear through the receiver. “Hello, dear! How are you feeling? Your brothers tell me you had a wee bit too much to drink last night.”

  There was a roaring, “Good morning, Bray!” in the background that had him wincing.

  “Are they there?” he asked, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Let me talk to Finn.”

  “Finnegan, your brother wants a word. Oh. He says he’s eatin’ and he’ll have to get back to you.”

  His jaw clenched. “Where are my pants?”

  “Has anyone seen Braydon’s pants? You really should keep better track of your personal belongings, love. Oh, okay. Kelly wants to know if you found the biscuit they left you.”

  He glanced at her and offered a frustrated smile. “Mum, Becca needs to get home and they stole all our stuff.”

  “Oh, dear. Stranded, are you? That’s quite a pickle. Can someone go pick up Braydon and bring him some pants?” Laughter sounded. “Hmm. They’re all busy, love. You’ll just have to make the best of the situation until someone can come get you. Where are you?”

  “I. Don’t. Know,” he growled.

  “Well, there’s no need to take a tone with me.”

  “Mum!” he snarled. “Put Dad on the phone.”

  “Frank! Telephone!” His head drew away from the receiver as his mother shrilled into the phone.

  His father picked up the line with feigning cheer. “Good morning!”

  “Dad, I need you to come get us and bring clothes. The guys dumped us in some hotel and stole all our shit.”

  “Did they now?”

  “Dad,” he growled again. In a more beseeching tone he begged, “Please.”

  “’Fraid my hands are tied, Bray. They won’t tell me where you are.”

  He covered the phone. “Can you see any road signs from the window?”

  She looked again. “There’s a highway, but I can’t see any signs from here.”

  “Dad, Becca needs to get to Hunter. We have to get out of here.”

  “Becca needs to get home to Hunter,” his father informed the others. “They said they’ll call you back in a few minutes. I gotta run, Bray. Have fun.”

  He stared, disbelieving, at the phone. “He hung up on me.”

  “I’m never drinking again,” she muttered.
/>
  A moment later the phone rang. He snatched it up and barked, “Hello?”

  “Well, good morning, GQ. I imagine you slept well.”

  “Damn it, Nikki. We need our stuff!”

  She chuckled. “May I please speak to Becca?”

  His arm shot out, passing her the phone. Becca wasted no time on a greeting. “You’re a dead woman.”

  “Oh, pish. In a few hours you’ll be thanking me. You kids have issues that need to be worked out.”

  “I’m not kidding, Nikki. I need to get home.”

  “No, you don’t. I spoke to Kevin—see what a caring friend I am? He has Hunter until tomorrow and your boss just extended your weekend. You’re free until after school tomorrow.”

  “How are we getting home?”

  “Carla’s picking you up when we feel you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now. This isn’t funny, Nikki.”

  “Oh, it’s a little funny, Becca. Did you take the headache medicine I left you?”

  “Yes.”

  “See, everything I do is out of love. Now, go order breakfast and get to the make-up sex. Kevin knows to call me if he needs anything.”

  “Nikki!”

  “Bye, Becca.” The line went dead.

  “I hate her.”

  They were quiet for several minutes. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. Tension knotted her shoulders and with every passing breath the unbridgeable chasm between them seemed to grow. Braydon clearly didn’t want to be trapped in a hotel room with her.

  After their argument, his ultimatum, their last encounter, weeks had passed without them speaking. She wasn’t sure how to break such silence. They’d never been awkward together, but now nothing felt natural.

  Abruptly, he stood. “I’m taking a shower. Why don’t you order something to eat? I assume the jackasses that dumped us here are paying, so be sure to order champagne and caviar.”

  With that, he disappeared into the bathroom shutting the door hard enough to make her flinch. She didn’t know if she should cry or make a naked run for it. With no money or clothing she wouldn’t get far.

  When the water shut off she quickly picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. Her brain was moving in slow motion, still processing the fact that her friends had fed her enough booze to cause a New York City black out, that she’d accepted such amounts, and beyond all else, that she was in the same room as Braydon. She ordered pancakes, cereal, eggs, and a large quantity of coffee.