A Different Kind of Perfect (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Another few minutes later, the paramedics came out of the bar with Rob holding the door. They were wheeling what looked like a young girl with reddish hair. No, not red, he could see the blonde coloring through the blood.

  “Dan!” Rob called into the bar, and a shorter, slightly pudgy guy came trotting out behind the paramedics. The cop followed close behind, tearing latex gloves off his hands.

  “Dan, you can come with me in the patrol car, if you want,” the cop, who looked somewhat familiar, said to the guy Alexis knew owned the bar.

  “Nah, I’ll go with the paramedics.” He took the skullcap off his head and threw it back at the building with a roar. “Shit!”

  “Hey Dan, she’ll be fine.” The cop clapped his hand over Dan’s shoulder.

  “I should never have fucking served her tonight. I thought she was on something.” He huffed, wiping sweat off his brow, his breathing heavy. “Fuck this.” He shoved into the paramedic van, which not a minute later rushed off into the night, going toward the local hospital.

  Rob shoved his hands into his pockets and turned back to the cop. “John, thanks for getting here so quickly. If you didn’t staunch the blood like that. Fuck. Who would do that to themselves?”

  The cop, John, finished calling in the status of the scene to the station before turning back to Rob, a sympathetic look on his face. “That girl was so high, I doubt she was even aware of what she was doing to herself.”

  “She’s only twenty-one.” Rob’s eyes were trained on the blood on his shirt.

  “Fake ID, Rob. That girl can’t be more than sixteen. I’ll talk to the councilor at the hospital and see if we can get her some help. Hopefully rehab.”

  “All right. Hey can I—”

  Alexis didn’t hear the rest of Rob’s sentence as the door to his room burst open revealing a large man with oily, jet-black hair, glaring at him. But it wasn’t the man’s girth or his oily hair or even the smell that made Alexis’s blood curdle. It was the man’s eyes as he surveyed the room, found it empty, and then spotted his son sitting on the porch overhang.

  “Fuck, didn’t I tell you not to go out there?” his father bellowed, charging forward and reaching to pull him back into the house. “Get over here, you worthless little shit.”

  Alexis scrambled forward, careful to stay out of reach but not too far to fall over the edge. “I’ll come back in if you stop screaming at me.” He yelled back at his father, knowing it would attract the attention of the cop across the street. Fighting back was the worst response he could have come up with. The best way to make the pain quick, and boy would there be pain, was if he stood quietly and just took it till it stopped. Talking back would only make it worse. But if he could only make that cop see what was going on…

  His fears were confirmed as his dad screamed in a drunken rage and pushed his massive self through the window, grabbing Alexis’s ankle, and dragging him back into the hellhole he called home.

  “Get off me,” Alexis yelled.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill you tonight, you little shit,” his dad screamed again, using his favorite insult for him. With a harsh yank, Alexis was at the window and underneath his dad’s torso. That’s when the fists came. Pounding one after the other, hitting his face and ribs and hip. He struck with the force of a freight train. Like ten freight trains, trying to push their way through his skin and bones. Trying to turn him into dust. God, he wished he could just be dust.

  Soon there was screaming that wasn’t coming from him or his father. In the back of his mind, past the pain, he knew it must be Rob and the cop. Who wouldn’t notice a three-hundred-pound guy beating the ever-loving shit out of a scrawny kid on the roof of a house right across the street?

  “Back away from the boy, sir.”

  “Fuck off. You don’t got no right telling me how to raise my kid. Fucking nosy-ass cops.” Hands circled his throat and then it was hard to breathe. He couldn’t hear the cop’s words anymore, only garbled shouts as the world narrowed to just the suffocating strength of two meaty hands smothering the life out of him.

  A loud bang released him from the suffocation and his hearing slowly came back online. He opened his bruised eyes to see his father in the window, blood seeping down his arms from where Alexis had scratched him, pulling himself back into the house. He heard the closet door open, heard the metal box and knew what it meant.

  “Wait. Wait—” Alexis tried to roll over, tried to call out to the cop. Hands were on him again, gentle hands this time.

  “Alex. Chill, stay still. It’s OK. You’re gonna be OK.” Rob’s voice soothed him.

  “My dad—”

  “Quiet. He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him, kid.”

  “Gun. He’s got a—”

  Another shot ripped through the night and the world turned off its lights.

  Chapter 2

  Ten Years Later

  “My name is Bleu and I’m a drug addict. I’ve been clean for close to ten years.”

  “Hello, Bleu.”

  “Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming to your first NA meeting.”

  Colton watched as the quirky meeting leader proceeded to welcome all the new NA members. She was the strangest, yet most fascinating woman he had ever seen. Petite with lovely curves, her skin was pale with what looked like a myriad of freckles covering her face and what he could see of her chest and arms. She wore tight skinny jeans tucked into calf-high black cowboy boots, with a black long sleeved shirt. A long and simple silver chain with a small pendant he couldn’t make out was the only jewelry she wore. But the most interesting and wondrous feature was her hair. Down to her waist and as curly as Shirley Temple’s, it started out a dark blue at her roots and lightened into a vibrant teal at the tips. It was stunning and it made her pale skin seem luminescent.

  Colton had been about to pass the room on the way to the local community center’s physical therapist and was pulled to a stop by the violent color of the woman’s hair. Now he was mesmerized and couldn’t walk away. He thought he heard her say her name was Blue, which was bizarre enough without the hair color. Maybe she dyed her hair that color to be ironic? For a flash of an instant the woman’s eyes met his, her speech paused for half a second before continuing on, focusing on the group once more.

  “Mr. Evans?” He turned around to see a blonde woman in a white coat, carrying a clipboard.

  “Dr. Michaels?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the NA meeting. The woman nodded and waved him forward to follow him.

  “How did you know it was me?” he asked, glancing back at the teal-haired woman one last time, wishing that her brief glance his way hadn’t been just incidental. He exited the room and followed Dr. Michaels.

  “You have the exact same build and coloring as he does. It’s uncanny how much you two look alike.” She smiled at him as they took a few turns into the medical part of the building.

  “Yeah, Ma never fails to tell me that when I come home to visit.” He smiled back, appreciating the faint blush in the woman’s cheeks. Another thing his mother was right about were his pale green eyes and the “weapons against unsuspecting females across the world” they’d become. He tried not to feel smug at her response but he couldn’t deny that making women blush and yearn was something he enjoyed. “So, how’s the old man doing?”

  Dr. Michaels frowned slightly. “Today was a bit rough. The arthritis in his hands is making it hard for him to turn the wheels. I keep telling him it’s time to go electric but he’s been…” She waffled on the right word to use.

  “A stubborn old jackass?” he provided for her.

  A shocked burst of laughter. “Uh, well I was not going to use those words exactly but they’ll work I guess.”

  “What words were you going to use, then?” He smiled, enjoying the exchange. He’d been working from home a lot lately, and while it had its benefits, the seclusion was starting to irk him. It had been awhile since he enjoyed some lighthearted banter with a pretty woman.
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br />   “A recalcitrant older gentleman who is set in his ways?”

  “I prefer jackass,” a disgruntled voice called out from the room they stopped outside of.

  Colton turned into a room that was equipped with exercise machines that could be used for physical therapy. He smiled at his father’s gruff and grumpy response, happy to see he hadn’t changed much since the last time he visited. The sight of his father in a wheelchair still sent a kick to his heart. Ten years ago next month, Colton thought to himself. Ten years since that alcoholic shithead shot his father and rendered him paralyzed from the waist down.

  The fury that flooded his body at the thought that the asshole was still out there, having never been caught, was a familiar weight in his chest. He sucked in a breath for patience and calm and put on a smile. He loved his dad and he thanked whatever higher power ruled their fates every day that he had survived that encounter.

  “C’mon, Dad. Why are you giving the pretty doctor grief, huh?” He bent to give his old man a hug, breathing in the aftershave the man had used for as long as Colton could remember.

  “Pretty, eh? If she’s so pretty why don’t you ask her out? You never bring home women. What? You too embarrassed by your old man—” Oh he was in a mood today.

  “Shut the hell up, Dad.” He clamped a hand on his dad’s shoulder, looking him square in the eyes. Even though it was ten years later, his father still carried doubt about his self-worth. He had been the finest police officer in town and then one idiot reduced him to desk jobs for the rest of his life. One night that changed his and his family’s life forever. “You know I don’t bring anybody home because Ma’s cooking has become a little scary as she’s gotten older.” He avoided saying the word girls because just saying girls alone would be a lie. If he avoided the subject completely then he wouldn’t have to lie to his father. Well, that’s what he told himself anyway.

  That brought a smile back to father’s face. At least his gleam of mischief was still present through the worry and pain. “All right. Sorry I’m a miserable old man.”

  “We forgive you. Just please consider an electric wheelchair?” He got on his knees and folded his hands together, making big, pleading, puppy dog eyes at his dad. “Pretty please, for your one and only son?”

  “Get up, you fool.” He laughed, tugging at Colton’s collar. “I’ll think about it, just quit being an ass.”

  “Like father like son.” Colton winked at the doctor. They spoke for a little while longer regarding his dad’s medications and exercises he should be keeping up with while at home. Eventually he wheeled his dad out of the room with his father’s parting, “See you next week, Dr. Michaels.”

  * * * *

  Bleu concluded the meeting with the usual mantra she had written back when she was in rehab. There were some hesitant smiles passed around between attendees and herself, but most of the people just gathered their things and booked it out of the room. This was a new group that the local rehab had assigned to her and she was all too willing and happy to take them on. They were young, mostly late teens and early twenties. The group she was able to most easily identify with, given her background.

  It was a hard thing for her to do sometimes, lead these groups in the evenings, or on her days off from the shop. But how could she not? She owed her life to so many people. If she didn’t pay it forward, even in some minuscule way, the guilt tripled and just made it harder for her to get through the day. She felt good about herself after helping them. She felt good seeing the way their smiles would become less hesitant and more filled with confidence as time passed. The worst part was seeing the empty chairs as the weeks went on, because it was a sure thing that not every chair would be filled at the end of the year. She couldn’t help all of them, but she tried her damn hardest to help as many as she could. There had to be some point to her recovery and survival.

  She quickly piled the twelve chairs to the side of the room, making space for the yoga group signed up for the space that was due to start in thirty minutes. After gathering her multiple bags and shrugging into her leather jacket, she walked out the door, checking her phone and not her surroundings as usual, and proceeded to slam into something.

  “Ugh,” she cried, rubbing her shins and stepping away from the hard metal of the wheelchair she definitely just ran into. Great. How much of an ass could she be?

  “I am so sorry.” One of her bags, the one with the cat food cans no less, had fallen to the floor upon impact with the wheelchair. She knelt to gather the cans. “I was completely in my own head and wasn’t watching where I was going—”

  Bleu stopped scrambling as a gentle but firm hand came down on her shoulder. She looked up to see an older gentleman sitting in the wheelchair, an indulgent grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s not every day I get run into by a blue fairy.” His eyes trailed over what he must have thought was her outlandish hair color.

  She smiled, feeling a slight blush warm her cheeks. Not due to his teasing but because of the man himself. He may have appeared to be in his late sixties but there was no doubt the man had been, and still was, a knockout. Beautiful golden hair just beginning to turn gray at his temples and eyes so crystal clear and green they reminded her of the Mediterranean Ocean—not that she’d ever seen it in person. But she knew from pictures. One side of his mouth was quirked up in a grin and his stunning eyes were focusing on something moving to the left of her.

  Well, she thought, there truly must be a God, because only a divine being could create two men with eyes that shone with the light of heaven. The younger man, clearly the older gentleman’s son, knelt next to Bleu and gave her a small smile as he picked up the bags and helped her to her feet. She reached her height and he just kept on going. She had a weird vision of Jack’s beanstalk growing taller and taller, becoming more intimidating by the moment. Except this beanstalk was pure lithe muscle and bleached-blond perfection. What man, that wasn’t an albino, had natural platinum blond hair? Was that real? Was he real? She must be high. Maybe she relapsed and was currently dreaming in a padded hospital cell…

  “Sorry about the collision,” the younger angel said. “I went temporarily blind and deaf from the nagging my dad was making me listen to and forgot how to steer.” He wiggled his eyebrows at his father right before dodging what would have been a kidney jab.

  “I might be stuck in this damn chair but I can still beat your ass.” The man threatened, comically waving a fist at his son. Bleu couldn’t help but smile at their close father-son relationship. It was a bittersweet feeling, but one she had come to accept through her years of healing.

  “You need a new chauffeur,” she replied, shrugging her overweight backpack onto her shoulder again.

  “Ha,” the older man barked. “And you need a pack mule.” He nodded toward her bags. “Colt, help the fairy to her car with those bags.”

  “Oh no, that’s not necessary, really,” she objected as one of her plastic bags split open and her cans of cat food began to roll down the hallway—again.

  “Right,” the young man, Colt, his father had called him, said with a smirk she wanted to either smack or kiss right off his face.

  She sighed and bent to pick up the cans, absently brushing her hair behind her ear, forgetting about the scars. A harsh intake of breath brought her eyes back to the wheelchair. The man’s hands were gripping the wheels as though his life depended on it. His face began to turn an odd shade of gray and for a moment Bleu was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe.

  “Hey, old man. You all right?” Colt knelt in front of his dad, grasping his shoulders.

  The man took in a deep breath but his eyes were fixed on Bleu’s ears. Her blush turned from embarrassment to annoyance. The scars were pretty bad, but the guy was in a wheelchair. Shouldn’t he know when to politely ignore a disability or scar by now? She pushed her hair back over her ear and looked away as she collected the cans and threw them in a separate bag, this one canvas and non-rippable.

  The
old man cleared his throat. “Colt, help her with her bags. I’ll meet you at the car—”

  “Officer Evans!” a voice from the end of the hallway called. She looked up to see the ever-pristine Dr. Michaels trotting down the hallway in her put-together, doctory ensemble. The doctor took one look at Bleu on the floor and rolled her eyes at her in a not-unkind way. It didn’t make her resent her any less. No woman should be that nice or perfect or smart. It was just unfair. “Why do you insist on bringing all this into your meetings, Bleu?” She grabbed the last can and placed it in the canvas bag as Bleu stood to meet her.

  “Oh you know me, paranoid former drug addict. Our membership card states we must carry at least one bundle of flotsam and jetsam around or else we won’t fill the quirk quota.” She tried not to look at Colt as she self-identified. She always did that, revealed her drug addiction status to men she was attracted to. Keeping them away.

  But taking a closer look at Colt, she realized he had already known she was a former drug addict. He had been the golden God standing in the doorway at the beginning of the meeting. Standing and staring at her so intently it was as though she was the last gasp of breath he’d been struggling for. She tightened her grip on the bags and risked a glance his way. He was smiling at her. Just smiling. No smirk or joke about her dropping ten cans of cat food. Just a smile. A flutter she hadn’t felt in years rippled through her belly.

  Dr. Michaels chuckled and tugged at a loose strand of Bleu’s turquoise hair in admonishment before handing over a bottle of pills to the man in the wheelchair. “You forgot these, Officer Evans.”

  “You don’t need to call me that.” He grunted. “Not in that line of work anymore.”

  Evans…Officer Evans…where had Bleu heard that before?

  “Don’t forget to take those or wheeling yourself around is just going to get harder than it already is,” she told him sternly before glancing at Colt with a grin that was so obvious, Bleu wanted to gag.