Remington (The Theriot Family 1)

“If it’s half vodka, it will.”

He grinned. “Then pour one for me too.”

Once we each had a full drink, I tried to find something to say. “I don’t think… I really don’t know what to tell you. Maybe try talking to him sometime when you’re not about to go into battle, sometime when things are”—I got the sense things were never really quiet for their family—“calmer than they are now. Tell him how you feel, honestly, not defensively or angrily. Let him know his attitude hurts you.”

Corbin nodded. “That would probably be smart, but I don’t know if he would listen, even then.”

I wasn’t sure what else to say. I was amazed Corbin felt so comfortable talking to me. Plenty of people had told me I was easy to talk to, but most of them had known me for a long time.

“He really does like you, you know.” Corbin’s change of subject threw me off.

“What?”

“Remington really likes you.”

My heart rate picked up. “Did he say something about me?”

“Even though there are two guards outside, he sent me in here to watch over you. He said it was essential you have constant protection.”

Because I was an investment? Because I knew his secrets? Or was it more? “Doesn’t that mean he actually trusts you? If he values my protection and he sent you to guard me, then he trusts you.”

Corbin sighed. “He said the same thing, but—”

I shook my head. “You want to be in the middle of the fight?”

He took a big swallow of his drink and frowned. “That sounds kind of ridiculous now.”

“No, you want to be able to do what he does.”

Corbin shook his head. “I don’t want to be in charge of the family. That’s too much. I just want to actually be able to help.”

“And eating ice cream and drinking with me doesn’t count as helping.”

He smiled. “It’s not like I mind it or anything. I mean, you’re way better than the other men Remington has been with.”

“I am?”

“Oh yeah. He usually dates stuck-up assholes. You’re not like them at all. I… Shit… I never share stuff like this.”

“The vodka helps.”

He laughed. “True, but I’m not usually a chatty drunk. I get…”

“Broody?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

He would look gorgeous all filled with angst. He probably had men or women or whoever he preferred falling all over him just by sitting alone and looking thoughtful.

I glanced toward the front door. Remington had been gone a long time. “When do you think he’ll be back?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“This is my life. My father, my older brothers, this is just what they do.”

“But what if… what if he…” I grabbed the bottle of vodka and splashed a large amount into my glass before topping it off with a little lemonade.

Corbin frowned at my drink. “That’s going to be really strong. You might want to—”

I brought it to my lips and gulped it down. I hadn’t let myself drink so much since right after my mom died and I’d wallowed in grief for weeks. “What do we do if he doesn’t come back?”

Corbin laid a hand over mine. “Remington might be an asshole, but he’s damn good at what he does. He’ll be back.”

I wanted to believe him, so I let him distract me with stories about Remington when he was much younger. By the time I’d drained my glass of vodka with a hint of lemonade, I was struggling to follow our conversation.

It took lots of squinting, but I finally made out the time on the clock. It was late, really late. My stomach churned. The last thing I needed was more alcohol, but I reached for the bottle anyway. Corbin grabbed it from my hand. “It’s time for me to take you to bed.”

My eyes widened. Remington would kill him.

He laughed, and the sound was overly loud in the small kitchen. “Not like that. You need water and ibuprofen. Then you need to sleep this off.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I protested, but when I stood, I wobbled and had to grab onto the counter.

“Right.”

I realized Corbin was completely steady. Was he just that much better at drinking? “I don’t drink much. Almost never.”

“Then you really need water.”

Corbin forced me to finish a huge glass of water and part of another one. I downed three ibuprofen, and he literally tucked me into bed like I was a kid.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk.”

“It’s okay,” Corbin said.

I didn’t think I could sleep without knowing Remington was safe, but as soon as I lay down, the darkness seemed to enfold me.

35

Remington

Giorgio, Niall, and the rest of my men were in place, waiting until Clark sent the signal for our “buyer” to move in. Then we had to count on Lance and—God help us—Tony to play their roles. Lance insisted the monkey was part of his act, and I’d given in. I sure as hell hoped the little creature could avoid bullets because I hated to think about how Lance would react if he was harmed.