The Sweetest Scent Part 5

"You will never see that boy again, do you hear me, you stupid boy? If you do, I swear I will teach you how to obey like a son should. And no more f.u.c.king dresses! You're a man, and you're gonna wear men's clothes!"

While Lacey was mildly surprised her father could still formulate coherent sentences, the cold shivers that ran down her spine at the sound of his threatening voice made her unable to confront his gaze, or anything else for that matter. She nodded-even though in her heart she knew she would disobey. She barely had any men's clothes aside from jeans. And... Lacey couldn't not not see Bro. He was all that stood between her and despair, her and rock bottom, her and insanity. see Bro. He was all that stood between her and despair, her and rock bottom, her and insanity.

Why does my own father hate me so? I cannot change who I am. I was born this way.

Muttering something vile under his foul breath, Roger turned around on his heel and stomped off down the stairs. Lacey let out the tiniest of sobs, feeling hollowed out inside, only to have that emptiness fill with a weight as heavy as a mountain and as deep as an ocean of sorrow. She felt so alone, so totally empty, she almost had no name for it. A family should have been a pillar to steady her, a foundation to build on. But for Lacey, the only thing family meant was the absence of one parent and the hatred of another.

The urge to call Bro and have him comfort her was foremost on her mind, but she knew she couldn't. Bro would get so mad he'd come right back and beat Roger to a pulp, which would solve nothing. If anything, it would only ensure Lacey could never see Bro again.

So with deep wet breaths, Lacey composed herself, still sitting trembling on the floor by the bed, vowing to herself to sort this out on her own. And that was when she remembered who could help her. A wave of relief washed over her as she contemplated her limited options.

But... at least there was a glimmer of hope.

Chapter 6.

"HEY, those are my onion sticks! Get your own!"

Bradley just chuckled infuriatingly while Bro tried to snag back his small portion of garlic bread and onion sticks. Bradley's fingers were surprisingly nimble, him being such a big guy and all, so Bro grumbled low, frowning as he finally managed to s.n.a.t.c.h the basket in front of him, surrounding it possessively with his arms.

"Where's your girl tonight?" Bradley asked companionably. His eyes wavered toward the checkout of the cafe, where his girlfriend, Audrey, was busy getting a mocha latte. "Doesn't she mind all that stench soon to be coming out of your mouth? Do you kiss her with that mouth?"

Bro growled, but it was all in jest. "What does it matter? You ain't never gonna find out what kind of a mouth Lacey likes kissing."

Laughing, Bradley shook his head. "Guess not. Besides, Audrey would kill me."

"And why am I killing you this time?"

Though she was not his type, even Bro had to admit Audrey was a knockout. A babe. A hottie. She habitually wore the skimpiest of skirts and the tiniest of T-shirts. Today the checkered kilt-like dress almost exposed her rear end, and had her b.r.e.a.s.t.s been one size bigger, that tight white shirt would have been absolutely obscene. She had on long socks coupled with high heels and wore thin suspenders over her shirt, but somehow she made the combo work. It could have been the perky bosom, the narrow waist, or the long legs that did it. In any case, every man in the cafe was fixated on the pinup of a Catholic schoolgirl, undressing her with their eyes and minds. Her long black hair was held together in two extended braids, giving her a girlish look, but the artful sooty makeup around her eyes and bright-red lipstick on her full lips gave her a sultry, seductive appearance.

"Your boy's asking about the whereabouts of my my girlfriend." Bro stuck out his tongue at Bradley, who grinned at that. girlfriend." Bro stuck out his tongue at Bradley, who grinned at that.

Sitting down next to Bradley and crossing her legs, Audrey quirked a thin eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Bradley leaned closer, kissing her temple. "Come on, baby. You know you're the only one for me. Who else would know how to...." His voice trailed off from Bro's hearing threshold as he whispered something in his girlfriend's ear-from the looks of it something dirty because Audrey giggled and blushed a little, squirming on her seat. Had she been a puppy, she would have wagged her tail.

Bro rolled his eyes. "Jeez. Get a room."

"Keep your heretical jersey on," Bradley chuckled, giving Bro a pointed look.

Bro pursed his lips, torn between flipping the guy off and tossing something edible and sticky at him. He went with profanities. "f.u.c.k off." Bro was wearing his Denver Broncos football jersey, while Bradley had his Washington Redskins jacket, and the two of them always fought amicably over this-even though Bro secretly cheered for the Redskins too, and Bradley wasn't a die-hard fan. "Like your stupid jacket is any kind of fashion statement, dude."

"My allegiances aren't in question in this town, but yours are, pal." Bradley nudged his girlfriend closer to nuzzle her neck.

"At least I ain't a f.u.c.king turncoat," Bro replied, grumbling. He loved the Broncos, and just because he lived in a different town now, he hadn't abandoned his loyalty for the team.

"Never said you were, brother." Bradley's voice was m.u.f.fled, but Bro could tell he was needling him to get Bro all miffed and huffy, which Bradley would find quaint and amusing.

Bro didn't dignify the comment with a response, just made a dismissive wave of his hand.

Audrey pulled away from Bradley but gave her boyfriend a totally smoldering look that might have left any man a pool of l.u.s.t on the floor. "Where is Lacey? I thought she was supposed to join us. Is she rehearsing her violin today?"

Shrugging, Bro had to admit he didn't know. "She just said she had an errand to run." His face darkened as he remembered the previous night and Roger's menacing bigotry. "Her dad was a f.u.c.king a.s.shole last night. Kept calling her... not by her name, and a... a f.a.g. For a second I thought he was really gonna hit her."

"But he didn't, right?" Bradley had straightened in his seat. His handsome face was grave, his brow furrowed. He was ready to fight for Lacey, and for Bro, which made Bro feel better about it. Lacey wasn't alone; she had friends who would stand with her and would have her back if push came to shove.

Audrey's lips pursed with disapproval and anger too. "Was he drunk again?"

Bro nodded reluctantly. "Yeah."

"That son of a b.i.t.c.h." Audrey's fingers toyed with her napkin until it was in shreds. "I don't like Lacey being alone with that hatemonger. I'm afraid one day he's going to-" She stopped abruptly, blinking and realizing she may have said too much. Bro knew exactly how she felt. Lacey and Audrey were best friends, like Bro and Bradley were best buddies. The four of them hung out together a lot, and by virtue of four months seniority, Audrey felt very protective of Lacey, as though Lacey were her little sister. For Audrey, Lacey's physical gender didn't enter into it at all. "Aren't there any other relatives she could stay with?"

Bro shook his head, saddened. "No, not that I know of. It's just her and her dad."

Whatever else he might have said got lost when an annoying voice filtered through his consciousness. "Well, if it isn't our high school's own fairy patrol and his f.a.g hags."

Bro's head jerked toward the owner of the voice, Deacon, who sauntered into the cafe like he owned the place, grinning maliciously. He was still on the school's football team, but he continued his s.h.i.tty behavior and hara.s.sment of Bro every chance he got. Bradley, too, was getting sick of him, and Bro worried what their captain was going to do about the situation one of these days.

Yet of the three of them, it was Audrey who spoke. "Well, well, if it isn't this town's biggest a.s.shole and bigot with his entourage-oh, wait, you don't have any 'cause your sorry a.s.s doesn't have any friends. Get lost, creep." She tossed one of her braids around and stretched herself, like a lovely feline, making sure every eye in the joint was on her. "We should all go see a movie on Friday, yeah? I think Lacey would like that, and we can do girl talk while you boys shower us with hearts and flowers, not to mention condoms and candy."

The tension left Bro's body as he allowed himself to relax and focus solely on Audrey. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Deacon's cheeks redden as he stared at Audrey like he wanted to strangle her or f.u.c.k her, but couldn't decide which. Finally, he stomped off.

Bradley shook his head, sighing. "You sure do know how to defuse situations, baby." There was a soft scolding in his voice, presumably because, like Bro, he could foresee trouble ahead, but Bro had never seen Bradley mad at his girlfriend about anything. He probably wasn't angry now, either, for they were a solid couple. Bro had a feeling they would last longer than the length of high school and college too. And he wished the same for himself and Lacey.

Audrey's green eyes flashed, indignant and furious. "Deacon's a f.u.c.king d.i.c.khead. If he insults my friends, you can be d.a.m.n sure I'll respond in kind. If you want a pretty, quiet, demure doll of a girlfriend, I suggest you look elsewhere, because I will not-"

Bradley kissed her silent, and surprisingly, she let him.

Watching them kiss made Bro want Lacey there right the f.u.c.k now so he could kiss her like that, and then slowly pull her to sit on his lap, caress her hair and slender arms, kiss her lips and neck, and have her skin filling his mouth, her dress shifting upward with his hand as he explored her body intimately, lovingly....

"Hey, Bro, you with us?" Audrey was waving her hand in front of Bro's face, amused at his s.p.a.ced-out condition. "Friday? Movie? Something action-y, so we can cuddle our boys. And then we can get a bite to eat."

Bro tried to swat her hand away in irritation, not because he disliked Audrey in the slightest, but because he missed Lacey. "Yeah, yeah. Now get the f.u.c.k away from me."

Audrey snickered. "Love it that there's a guy out there who doesn't want me."

"I'll want you doubly, honey, to make up for the loss," Bradley teased, his hand brushing against her knee and beginning to slide upward while she wriggled and giggled, barely trying to escape the attempt.

Bro rolled his eyes and harrumphed loudly in reproach. "Okay, I'm getting diabetes with this sugar overload. I'll see ya guys later. I'm off."

As he got out of the booth, all he could think about was how much he missed Lacey.

"KEEP your arms up. Come on, Lacey. Stop slacking off." your arms up. Come on, Lacey. Stop slacking off."

After a grueling hour of practicing self-defense moves with Jordan, Lacey was ready to fall down on the ground and cry in exhaustion, or alternatively, punch the guy's lights out. Well, b.i.t.c.h slap really, as she didn't have any strength left. Jordan was merciless, not giving Lacey any room to falter or stumble. He was a great instructor, but he was borderline cruel. Still, she knew he meant well.

Quickly, she brought up her arms to block his attack. Each hit hurt, even though she antic.i.p.ated them, and she'd have bruises later. "I'm trying, dammit."

"Curse all you want," Jordan remarked, unrelenting in his a.s.sault. Though they were for practice and not for real-much-the impacts still made Lacey ache all over. "You're giving me poor performance. Now buck up!"

She was growling now in frustration, but she refused to give in or give up. Jordan avoided her face and focused on her body, trying to attack her torso or force her off balance by kicking her feet from under her. The moves themselves weren't difficult, as they were just a simple series of continuous motions that could be used to daze, incapacitate, or even seriously injure an opponent. It was sort of like dancing, only the other guy didn't want to dip her but throw her down.

Lacey gave the practice her all, even though her body cried out for a break. She was a violinist, after all, not a martial arts expert. She didn't go to the gym or do the kind of rigorous training Jordan and Bro did, although for different reasons. Yet she wanted to excel in this. Not to find something to brag about, but to hold her own against any foe.

Even if the foe was her father.

Lacey's damaged cheek hurt as blood thundered through her system with the exertion. Though the throbbing was d.a.m.n near blinding in its intensity, there was a cleansing effect within as she relaxed and fell into the flow of the string of movements. Though Jordan was way better, she felt in control of her body, her choices, her life. She felt strong and capable.

"Your left hand is dragging, Lace. Pick it up!"

And then Jordan's words reminded her she still had a ways to go. She redoubled her efforts, keeping her feet moving, never sticking too long in one place. She kept her arms up but close to protect her upper body and her face. Whenever there was an opening, she took advantage. She doubted Jordan was really that vulnerable or exposed, but these moments gave her confidence.

She had fighting gloves on, not the heavy boxing kind. Her hands felt fragile, as though the small bones there might break or shatter at any second, when in truth the fighting gloves were designed to prevent any such injuries. Her tennis shoes were well used, so they didn't chafe, but she had been bouncing around on her feet for nearly two hours.

"Jordan, I'm tired."

"Not yet. Fifteen minutes more, Lace. Come on, honey, you can do it."

It was such simple encouragement, but it renewed her strength. Well, her strength of will anyway.

The gym Jordan had built in one of the larger rooms in the loft was s.p.a.cious and airy, and Lacey felt comfortable there, free of pressure and tension, free from the feeling of the walls closing in on her. For the first hour, Jordan had shown her how to take a swing at or how to kick a punching bag, and that had relieved her stress and anxiety quite a bit.

With a live opponent, it was another matter. Jordan wasn't squeamish about any of his actions, even if it meant she learned something through trial and error, and with a swarm of bruises to boot. Lacey knew, however, that had Jordan been able to see the bruise on her cheek underneath the concealer, it would have been a whole other ballgame. Thankfully, the makeup had lasted even through the two hours of exercise.

"Come on, Lace. Front kick."

Growling, Lacey aimed a hard kick at Jordan's groin but missed. She did hit him just above the knee, and he grunted, backing off. "Ha!" she gloated, lifting her hands in triumph.

"You got lucky." Jordan's movements didn't slow or waver despite the impact. Lacey was certain a real attacker wouldn't either, so she carried on.

"Remember what I told you?" Jordan asked imperiously while circling her. "Disorient, incapacitate, flee."

Lacey nodded. Jordan had shown her, among others, some basic Krav Maga moves. Disorienting an opponent was a simple matter of attacking the senses, like blinding with a finger in the eye socket or deafening with a harsh slap against the ear or temple. Incapacitating meant using the extremities to hit vulnerable spots, like groin, knee, or abdomen, and as the attacker doubled over in pain, then making sure they went down permanently, for example with a punch on the back of the neck. Once the enemy was down or distracted by pain, the only thing left to do was run out of range to a safe harbor.

While she went over the instructions in her head, Jordan had managed to sneak attack her rear, giving her a.s.s cheek a pinch. Crying out with indignation, Lacey gave his shin a rear kick and then finished with a hard elbow strike back, straight in the gut. Grunting, Jordan doubled over, holding his belly.

"Good one, Lace." The compliment stroked her ego like no other comment before.

"I think you've done enough for the day." Jordan straightened slowly, rubbing his belly, which must have hurt at least a bit, but he was grinning. Lacey was certain this was because Jordan took pride in his achievements, especially if they were designed to help someone he valued or cared for.

"So do I."

Startled, both Lacey and Jordan turned to the new voice.

Bro was standing in the open doorway, his eyes narrow with irritation, his lips a thin line, his feet apart, and his arms crossed over his chest.

Lacey winced, then bit her lower lip. This was not how she had planned this encounter to go down. "Bro, I...." Then she ran out of words, knowing an explanation of her reason for training with Jordan was only going to make matters worse. The alternative would have been to lie to her lov-boyfriend. And she couldn't do that either. So Lacey ended up standing in place, fidgeting, and opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish.

Bro wasn't stupid, and he caught on pretty quick. His narrowed gaze hit Jordan square in the eye, asking a silent question. Jordan exchanged a glance with Lacey, who was well aware she was pleading with her expression, and then he sighed.

"This was my idea, Bro. Lace dresses up like a girl. I thought it would be a good idea if she learned a few basic self-defense moves."

And that was the extent of his explanation. Take it or leave it, and Lacey swallowed hard, praying Bro wouldn't question it. For she had no other answers to give him right now, certainly none that would defuse the level of tension in the room, let alone the tension in the set of Bro's broad shoulders.

But then there was none. Bro's rigid stance eased, and he let out a breath, giving Lacey a concerned look with a hint of sadness and pity. "Why the f.u.c.k didn't you tell me?" There was no vehemence behind the words as Bro closed the gap between them and laid his hands on Lacey's hips, gently pulling her closer.

Emotions constricted Lacey's throat. "I... I didn't want to worry you. You already think I'm in danger from every shadow in the streets." She shrugged, reluctant to continue.

"Babe...." Bro let out an exasperated huff but said nothing more, only hugged Lacey to his chest.

Lacey protested weakly. "I'm all gross and sweaty."

Bro chuckled then, and the knot twisting Lacey's gut unwound. "I've seen you sweaty before, babe. Lots of times." And his arms grew tighter around her. Taking a deep breath of spicy cologne and male musk, Lacey circled Bro's waist and buried her head in his neck, feeling safe and happy again. Bro seemed to have that effect on her every time.

"Lace?" Jordan spoke from behind them, his tone neutral, not giving anything away. "It is late. Wash up, change, and I'll drive you home." Bro must have been about to argue, because Jordan cut all protests short. "The only place you're going, little boy, is to bed-by yourself. Now hop to it."

"Sir, yes, sir," Bro grumbled, and Lacey giggled against his chest. Bro peered down at her, smiling. "Why wouldn't I obey? The sooner I get to bed, the sooner I can dream about you. Lewd, dirty things." He waggled his eyebrows, and Lacey burst into laughter.

"Sounds like a plan," she said at last, winking. Bro's eyes darkened.

"Now, please," Jordan cut in, impatient yet clearly amused.

"Bully...," Bro mumbled and then cussed a blue streak under his breath. Lacey was the only one who heard the long line of obscenities, and she snickered behind her hand, blushing. Her guy sure had a potty mouth.

With a much too quick kiss, Bro let Lacey go. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Duh." Lacey gave him a lengthy good-night kiss of her own before dashing into the changing room. It wouldn't do for her father to find out what she had been doing. If she smelled too sweaty, he would suspect the worst. If she smelled of soap and water, he would really go berserk. It was a fine line. She used a warm, wet washcloth to clean up most of the sweat and then added some deodorant, hoping that would be enough to mask any bodily odors. Besides, if he was drunk, maybe all he sniffed would be alcohol anyway.

At least Bro had retreated to his room when she came out. One less distraction.

Five minutes later, Lacey sat in Jordan's monstrous, pimped-out SUV once more as he drove her home. Only... it wasn't home. It was just a house she lived in right now. It had never felt less like a home, no matter what she did to spruce up her room to make it cozy. A home was a place that housed the people one loved. Lacey loved her dad, but a little less every day, and that saddened her. She felt alone, exposed, and vulnerable, naked and visible to the whole world, a wreck without a safety net. She felt more at home with people not her kin, like Bro, Jordan, and Sebastian, Audrey and Bradley. Her friends were her new family more than her one surviving parent, and her house was not a home.

"You okay?" Jordan's soft voice cut through the interference.

Shaken, Lacey nodded. "Yes. Jordan, I...." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I'm sorry I wasn't frank with Bro. I just-"

"I understand. Next time." Jordan's cool was an armor that almost never cracked. He meant it too, Lacey could tell, and she was grateful.

The rest of the trip pa.s.sed in companionable silence. When they parked on the curb, Lacey peered toward the house and saw the lights were on, and a shadow moved across the drapes. Her father was home. Shrinking against the seat physically and into her own head emotionally, she had never felt less inclined to enter the house she was supposed to call home.