The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(82)

“I’m sorry. What are you going to do? Are you going to tell the cops? Are you going—”

The sting of his knuckles hitting Brewster’s jaw gave Dred more pleasure than he could ever imagine. Once Brewster was down on the porch, Dred kicked him hard in the stomach. “You useless piece of shit,” he snarled. “I swear to f*cking God, if I find out you ever have kids, I’ll come ’round and kill you myself.”

Without so much as a glance back, Dred hurried across the lawn to Pixie who was nearly at the car.

“Dred,” she said as he approached her.

“Yeah, Snowflake.”

“Take me home.”

*

Pixie leaned against Dred as the elevator doors closed. A weight had been lifted off her, but her body was drained from carrying it all those years. Finally home, all she wanted to do was grab a shower, hang out with Dred and Petal, who were staying with her rather than at a suite at the W, and have a relaxing evening.

She’d pressed the button for the floor to her apartment and watched the numbers begin to climb. When it reached fifteen, Dred quickly hit eighteen, two floors beneath Lia’s.

“Don’t be getting any kinky elevator-sex-games ideas, I’m too tired,” she said with a grin.

“Elevator sex. Huh. Never done that one. But no. I might have done something else instead.”

“What’s that?” she asked, as the doors opened on eighteen.

“You’ll see,” he said, taking her hand. He led her to the corner suite and knocked on the door.

Lia opened it. “Perfect timing,” she said with a beaming smile.

Pixie stepped inside the most beautiful apartment. Decorated in mostly white and gray, it was finished with splashes of purple. Being on the corner, the huge wraparound balcony provided spectacular views over Biscayne Bay. It was a massive open-plan space, with a large living area, a dining table that could easily seat twelve, a professional-grade kitchen, and a secondary seating area set up as a library.

“What is this?” she asked as Jordan appeared from a hallway beyond the living room. He carried a baby monitor in his hand.

“I’m going to head out,” Jordan said. “She’s down for the count. See you in the morning.”

“I’ll join you,” added Lia. “You know where I am, Pix.”

They both left, leaving Pixie feeling very confused.

“This is home,” Dred said, wrapping his arms around her. “Or at least I hope it is. For you, me, and Petal. The lease is for six months.”

“Wait. What. I don’t understand.”

“We decided to come finish the album here, so I can help you take care of all this stuff with Arnie. At first we thought we’d come for a couple of weeks, but the more we talked about it, the more we liked the idea of recording the whole album here. And that got me to thinking. I’ve never had my own space, and I am guessing you haven’t either.”

Pixie shook her head, but butterflies of excitement where building in her stomach. She felt like a bottle of champagne that had been shaken.

“I want what everyone else has,” Dred said. “What Trent has with Harper. What Cujo has with Drea. They simply have each other and are building their lives from there. I want you and me, only we’ll have Petal too.”

“But what about Jordan?”

“We talked. Jordan is staying with the other guys while we are here. Then we all go on tour together. After that, who knows? But I told Jordan that he’ll never be alone. I’ll set him up a room in the new house so he can stay with the guys or live with me.”

“What happened? Can you tell me?”

“There should be a bottle of wine in the fridge. Why don’t you grab it, and find us some glasses while I go check on Petal. We’ll talk and then I’ll give you a tour.”

Pixie wandered into the kitchen and ran her hand over the cool white countertop. The double-door fridge was intimidating, but was already well stocked. Their friends had been busy. She found the glasses in the third cupboard she looked in.

“Here.” Dred walked back into the great room. “Let me open that.”

Once they were seated and drinking the delicious white wine, Dred began. “I think we owe our lives to Ellen who ran the home we lived in, and Maisey, our social worker. They made us their family. Shit, we were even groomsmen at their wedding. Maisey encouraged us to build a family with those we lived with. She used to say real families don’t get a choice either. Your sibling is your sibling, and you just need to make it work. Her thought was why should group homes be any different?”

Pixie smiled at the sentiment. She’d done the same with Cujo and Trent.

“Anyway, she decided to buy us musical instruments to give us all something to do. This was before Lennon joined us. We had a drummer named Adam, but that’s a whole other story for another day.”

Pixie put her wine glass down and curled up next to him. She could only imagine how painful his memories were to share.

“So Lennon came to live with us, his last name is McCartney by the way. His mom might have been a selfish bitch, but at least she had a sense of humor. Anyway, we started a band. From that day on, we did everything together. We made up songs, which nine times out of ten were crap. We put on shows for our carers. And we got in shit, and fought, and were generally *s. None of us were perfect.”