Twice Shy (The Restraint Series) by Jill C Flanagan, Jill Christie Page A

off an Ellis, she would be the one suffering for it.
    Bren shook his head. “Not my business, man.” Turning back to the elevator, he hoped it would arrive soon.
    Bart stood beside him. “You staying here or visiting?”
    “Visiting. You remember Stacy Jones?”
    “Shee-it, Tommo, I thought she was dead or something. I don’t fault you for going for the soft landing, she’s got to be a cushy ride. But she’s just like her mother, camp trash through and through.”
    Brendan’s fists were clenched tight. He could feel his nails breaking his skin on his palm. The pain cleared his head and made him think logically; it stopped him from belting the fucking asshole.  He almost kneeled in thanks when the elevator finally arrived.
    At least his penis wasn’t as happy now that he’d seen and talked to Bart.
    More soberly than his whiskey-laden breath should have allowed, Bart said, “By the way, anything she says about me is a lie. She’s always had a hate-on for me, that one.”
    Bren asked, “Like what, Bart?”
    “Nothin’ important. Just mind my words.” The elevator doors opened. “Nice seeing you Tommo, let’s get together for a couple of sociables soon.”
    Brendan called out, “Hey Bart?”
    Bart turned around with a sloppy smile, which froze when he saw the look on Brendan’s face. “We may’ve been friends in school, but don’t go thinking that we’re still buddies. Stacy is a better person than you and me combined. Know this – I would kick the fuck out of you right now, or I would give it a helluva go. But if I did that, you’d get revenge by making life hell for my mom, because that’s what Ellises do.”
    Bart was silent for a moment, then smiled, “I’ll give you a free pass on that one, ‘cause you’re cunt-struck. I can see she’s already been telling tales about me. You’ll soon realize that she’s lyin’, and I’ll accept your apology then. You have a good day Tommo.”
    Brendan would have to get to the bottom of this. Stacy might not know it yet, but protecting her, keeping her happy and safe in the world was going to become his responsibility again. Just like in school. Except this time he was going to do it well.
    ***
    S tacy heard a bang next door. Easing open the adjoining door, she spied West sprawled half on the bed and half off, cell phone in hand, trying to use his voice command. He slurred his words, which sounded a little like, “Callshub.” The voice command responded, “Did you mean ‘Castle’?” West gave an aggravated “Nuh!”
    Puzzled, Stacy walked over and smelled him and took his cell and disconnected it. “Oooh boy, West, you reek. How did Mary get you so drunk?”
    West mumbled something which sounded like, “Yuggerbum.”
    She snorted. Thankfully being a bar manager gave her a degree in drunk-speak. “Jägerbombs? West, we need to get a couple of Advil down you. I’ll call Tim and tell him you’re incapacitated.”
    He pulled her down on top of him. He ‘oomphed’ when she landed. “My girrrl.”
    “Your girl.”
    Then a bubbly cough, and he started snoring. Stacy had never seen West even tipsy. Taking off his shoes and trousers, she then turned him on his side and pancaked him in the bedspread. He would freak in the morning, germ-freak that he was, knowing he slept on top of the bedspread.
    Deciding to sleep on the pullout to keep an eye on him, she got ready for bed and called Tim to inform him of West’s condition.
    “He never gets drunk, Stace. Damn! I miss everything. Could you get me a video?”
    “I think you value your ass, Tim. So do I. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s this town. I can’t wait to get back to Palm Springs. I miss you.”
    They expressed their love, bantered a bit more, and hung up.
    Before bed, she assembled the hangover kit by West’s bed. Two bottles of water, more Advil and a piece of fruit.
    Before she drifted off to sleep, the question occurred to her whether West had charmed her name out of