Taking His Victory: (The Men of River City book 4)

  Taking His Victory

  The Men of River City book 4

  Nola Marie

  Copyright © 2021 Nola Marie

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9798583993840

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  For all of my kids, both biological and adopted, who keep me laughing, smiling, and inspired. I love you more than you know.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Tori

  Zane

  Tori

  Epilogue

  Would you like to personalize your paperback? Email me at Nolamarie@nolamarie.com and request your

  Sons of Sin

  Thank you

  Follow Me

  Show some love

  The Men of River City

  About The Author

  Playlist

  Boomerang - Chelsea Williams

  Taking You Home - Don Henley

  Alone - Heart

  Light Me Up - Ingrid Michaelson

  Us - James Bay

  What If - Kane Brown

  One of Them Girls - Lee Brice

  My Love - Little Texas

  Riot - Three Days Grace

  I Love This Bar - Toby Keith

  Tori: derived from Victoria: (f): (Latin): Victory/Victorious

  Tori

  I hate country music. I hate the way the music is arranged with its combination of violins – fiddles, banjos, and whatever else is thrown into the mix. I hate the voices that intentionally twang with every word. I hate the way they fucking harmonize. I really, really fucking hate the lyrics.

  But every time I walk into this place, it is a damn country song that comes to my mind. Why, you ask, would I have a country song in my head if I hate it so much?

  There are several positively logical answers to that question. One because even when you hate a song, it can get stuck in your head. Kind of like the theme song to Barney and Friends. See? You’re humming it right now, aren’t you?

  Reason number two is Pete. God how I love that man. Not many would take in a runaway foster kid like he did, but I am so incredibly grateful that he did. I was already a survivor, even at the tender age of thirteen, but Pete taught me to be a fighter in every sense of the word.

  Pete’s only downfall is his love of country music. He was born and raised in Texas. I suppose you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.

  The third reason that I will never admit to out loud is that the damn song is catchy and says everything that I have felt about Lucky’s since Dane brought me here.

  I love this bar.

  When you walk in, you feel like you are no longer surrounded by the incessant need to hurry. As soon as you open the door, if feels like time just slows down. The hustle of the city doesn’t apply in here. You can literally feel the stress of the day falling off as you walk in. You almost expect to hear everyone yell “Norm” when you come in.

  Pete watched a lot of “Cheers” reruns too.

  The theme song in your head now?

  Thought so.

  I take my spot on my usual stool. Ryder walks over with my usual club soda when he knows I’m working. “What brings you in so early tonight, love?” he asks in that British accent that makes every woman within a fifty yards swoon.

  “In between sessions,” I tell him.

  “So, you walked over to support the house band?” he nods toward the stage where Maddox is picking up his guitar and Dane is grabbing his drumsticks, taking his place behind his kit. I give a shrug. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not loyal. Why aren’t you up there?”

  “Somebody’s got to keep the drinks flowing. Need the voice more than the extra guitar,” he glances down the bar to two men waving him down. “Be right back, love.”

  I smile as a flock of women follow him to the other end. I can see why. I’d have to be blind not to see why. The man is eye candy on a bad day with those pale gray-green eyes and light brown hair. Throw in the accent and he is a recipe for sex, and I may or may not have taken him for a test run. The sex was great, but there was no chemistry. Didn’t take long to figure out we’re great together as friends but nothing else.

  I listen to Maddox’s tenor voice wail as he sings a beautifully powerful original song I know he’s been working on about letting go of the idea of a person and accepting the reality of who they really are. I’m not sure if it can be called a ballad or not, but it is a great song. They play a few more of their originals and a couple of covers before ending the set.

  I have to say they are pretty great. Sons of Sin is real, the musical talent is insane, and Maddox and Ryder’s songwriting is some of the best I’ve heard. But they play the kind of music that resonates with me. And my brother is in the band. I’m probably biased.

  I watch as another flock of women follow Maddox, Angel – the bass player, and my brother from the stage. They pay particular attention to Maddox, who I notice is sporting some decent bruising on his face.

  Again, I’d have to be blind and deaf not to understand the appeal even with the black eye and swollen nose. Between his megawatt smile and that stupid crazy voice, it’s no wonder women are practically throwing their clothes at him.

  But that one, I have not ridden. From the moment I met Maddox, I was nothing more to him than Dane’s sister. He and Dane met a few years ago at NYU. Dane was a senior. Maddox a freshman. Dane was majoring in graphic design while Maddox double majored in business and music. I heard that was the only way he could get his father to pay for school. But they bonded over tattoos and music pretty fast.

  Dane walks behind me, pulling on my long braid. “Who’s watching the shop?” he asks as he runs his hand over his blond mohawk.

  “Jasper and Stitch,” I tell him as I sip my drink. My brother owns the tattoo shop across the street. In between playing, he’s the best tattoo artist in town, but he says music is his first love.

  “You left dumb and dumber in charge?” he asks with mock anger.

  I can’t help but chuckle. Those two have been his best friends since he was in junior high. At least, that’s what I have been told repeatedly. I’m actually touched that he trusts me with his shop so much. “When I left, they were both with clients, and I’m clear until eleven.”

  “That should, at least, keep them occupied long enough until I get back over there.”

  I laugh a little more. My brother the future rock star, tattoo artist is a control freak to the ninth degree. Sometimes I wonder how in the world he tattoos since most customers have the final say with the design.

/>   I have always loved tattoos. A few years ago, I stumbled into Stuck on You – cheesy I know – looking for someone to give me a tattoo. I had no idea I would meet my brother. I didn’t even know I had a brother, but Dane recognized me right away. The resemblance between us is too strong to miss. Apparently, he’d been looking for me and our little sister Cara since he turned eighteen. He found Cara first. She was living in foster care like me. She was thirteen. It took a lot of paperwork, but he managed to get custody of her. She’s eighteen and finishing her first semester of college soon at Loyola in Chicago.

  Yeah, my brother is amazing. I wish I could’ve known him when we were kids. He says I wouldn’t have like him back then, but I don’t know many twenty-three-year-olds who would fight for custody of a sibling they never even met.

  Once I got over the initial shock of having a brother and sister, Dane and I bonded over our love of tattoos. He taught me everything I know, and about a year ago, turned me loose to my own chair.

  Which gets me thinking. “Where is Zoey tonight?” I ask Maddox. I know she should be here because the band played tonight.

  Zoey was my very first canvas. I added to another beautifully intricate tattoo on her back. She’s been back to see me a few times since then.

  Zoey is special. You can see it in her pale blue eyes and her smile, as sad as that smile may be. I’ve watched as people seem to naturally gravitate to her without her trying. In fact, she tries hard to push people away.

  I’ve tried a lot over the last year to get to know her better. I ask her to come out with me all the time. I’ve even offered to set her up with a couple of guys I know. She always has a reason not to join. I’ve tried to get Maddox to spill some deets on her, but he keeps quiet. Unusually so.

  But I persist anyway because I can see the girl needs a friend. I know she’s been through something. It’s obvious in her haunted eyes and sad smile. I don’t like to see people hurting.

  And the way Maddox just turn a whiter shade of pale, I know something is wrong. Something else I know. Whether Maddox admits it or not, his feelings for Zoey go beyond friendly. I’m not sure what their history is exactly, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe it’s why he has never been in any kind of relationship. Not even short term.

  “Did she quit?” I ask casually like I don’t notice his discomfort.

  “She tried to,” he mumbles with a sarcastic tone so low I nearly miss it.

  “Maddox, what’s going on? Don’t think I didn’t notice you up there looking like the world is ending. And every single song you sang tonight was heavy as fuck. Not to mention you all of sudden look like you’re going to be sick.”

  His bright blue eyes rake me over. He’s having an internal debate about what he should and shouldn’t tell me. He runs a tattooed hand through his sun kissed hair. “Come with me,” he tells me as he gestures to the back of the bar.

  What the fuck? What the hell happened that he has to take me away from the crowd? Whatever it is, it can’t be good.

  We make our way through the kitchen out the back door. We are standing in the alleyway that has absolutely no one around, but that doesn’t stop him from looking around like he excepts someone to be lurking around.

  He finally turns to face me, and his face is tight with tension and worry. He roughs his hand through his hair again before stopping at the back of his neck with both hands. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I have seen how you have really tried to reach out to Zoey. I know how fiercely you care about people and that’s exactly what she needs right now.”

  I watch him with a heavy heart. I can see so clearly how much he cares for Zoey. “I have tried to get to know her,” I agree, “but she hasn’t been very receptive.”

  He blows out a breath. “Zoey hasn’t been receptive of anyone in a while. She was so full of life. Always happy and optimistic about everything until a year ago.”

  Whatever happened and whatever is happening is tearing him apart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Maddox look so defeated. I reach for his hand hoping it’s enough to bring him some sort of comfort, but knowing it probably isn’t. “You don’t have to tell me, Maddox.”

  He shifts his six-foot frame from foot to foot. He is in a battle with himself. “No, I need somebody to talk to about this shit. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone in a long time, and Zoey needs all the friends she can get. At least, I hope you keep trying after she’s gone.”

  “Gone?” My confusion is evident in my voice. “Where is she going?”

  “I’m sure her brother and her boyfriend will be taking her back to River City.” His tourmaline eyes shadow with darkness. He drops his gaze to the ground and his jaw tenses more. He practically reeks with worry, guilt, and sadness. “Fuck, why can’t I ever do anything right with her?” he bellows into the night. “Twice. Twice she’s nearly died because of me. Three if you want to count last year.”

  “Mads, for the love of God what are you talking about?” I ask a little high pitched because he is seriously worrying me right now.

  He looks at me. His eyes glistening with tears, and a cold chill runs through my entire body. When he begins to talk, I begin to feel ill. When he finishes his story, tears also fill my eyes.

  “Can we go see her?” I ask softly.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to see what Jax or Zane think.” He waves a hand around like he’s brushing away the last fifteen minutes. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I agree although I don’t really feel like going back now. I’d much rather go some other place.

  He goes back inside while I walk to the tattoo shop. I have an itch I need to scratch, and I plan on doing just that as soon as I get the next guy out of my chair.

  Zane

  I don’t know how much more the fucking universe expects me to handle. I think I have dealt with more than my fair of bullshit. I really don’t think I can handle anymore. If my sister doesn’t wake up, I think I will lose it.

  Another text from Maddox comes through my phone. The guy has texted every day since we got here. It makes me wonder what has gone on in the last year between him and my sister. For his sake, I hope nothing because his face can’t take much more. Jax really would have killed him the other night had we not gotten him off of Maddox.

  I wanted a piece of the asshole too, but I was more worried about Jax at that moment. We’re both barely hanging on by a thread, but he has been unraveling faster and faster. I can’t lose my best friend on top of everything else, so I have been trying to keep it together. If we both lose it, then somebody will get hurt.

  I make my way through the corridor of the hospital as I type out to Maddox that there is no change with Zoey. No fucking change. Not a finger twitch. Nothing.

  This shit shouldn’t have happened. I should never have left her here a year ago. I should have gotten Rory to find her. I don’t know if that idea even occurred to Jax, but I thought about it a lot. I just wanted to give her the time to come home. I really thought that one day she would pick up the phone and tell me to come get her.

  The phone call I got, I never expected. It came from Maddox. And if I never get another call like that again, it will be too soon.

  She has always been the sweet, bright sunshine of the two of us. She had a genuine smile for everyone. I can’t think of a single person who has ever met her and didn’t like her. Seeing her lying in that bed like she has been for the last three days has been pure hell. She doesn’t even fucking look like Zoey. Her hair chopped off and bleached. She probably weighs ninety pounds soaking wet. She’s sallow looking and sick. The damn wrapping on her forearm is another reminder at how broken my sister is. I have no idea what it looks like under the wrapping and I am afraid to see. Afraid to see the evidence of her desperation.

  I’m almost to her room when my phone begins to ring. It’s Jax. Since I’ll be walking into the room in five seconds, I let it ring.

  On the third ring, I walk int
o the room. I look up the same time it stops. “What’s u-,” I start but then my eyes land on the most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever seen. “You’re awake. You’re really awake?”

  Her eyes are red and watery as she nods. “I’m awake, Zee.”

  I walk slowly toward her. I feel like this is a dream, and if I move too fast it will all end. When I’m beside her bed, I collapse into the chair and drop my head down to the bed. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to sob. She runs her fingers through my hair softly. “I’m so sorry, Zee.”

  I tense up at her words. She’s sorry. Anger begins to bubble to the surface. So much anger. Anger at her and anger at myself. I am fucking pissed that she took off like she did. I am pissed that I haven’t seen her or heard from her in a year. I am furious that she left me, and I am beyond angry that she tried to end her own life. That she made the unilateral decision to completely destroy me and take away the only family I have left. I raise my head slowly.

  My face is tight with the fury. I feel the heat of my anger traveling up my face. A year’s worth of worry, fear, and anger. I clench my hands tightly at my sides.

  “Zane, don’t,” Jax warns, the threat clear in his voice.

  I ignore him. He wants to pretend the last year didn’t fucking happen, let him. He has been hurting just as much as me. Fuck, he’s been hurting more, but, while his love helps him see past the anger, mine fuels it even more.

  “What are you sorry for, Zoey? Are you sorry that you ran away from us last year? Are you sorry that the doctors and nurses had to tell us what happen to you, and then you ran away?”

  Tears fall down her face, and that fucking pisses me off more. As does Jax’s warning to back off. My anger is for him too because I’ve seen the hell he’s been through. All the ways he’s tried to drown the pain. I didn’t just lose my sister last year; I lost my best friend. Both of them in one moment of time. I cast him a hard glare and continue my rant. “Are you sorry that when Jax got to your hotel room, you’d already been there and cleared everything out? Are you sorry you intentionally left your phone so that we couldn’t call you? Are you sorry that on top of everything else, he had to grieve for you too? Are you sorry for every time you would call then hang up? Are sorry we’ve spent the last fucking year not knowing if you were okay and, then out of the blue, Maddox calls us? Again.”