Falling Hard (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #1) (13 page)

~~~~~

Later, in the warm night, Mannix sat in his
idling car, waiting for Lizzy Pajari to drive out of The
Devilhouse’s parking lot. His car’s massive engine snarled behind
his head. Its bass vibrations tickled his eardrums and crawled on
his neck. The seat heater warmed his back and ass until he was
sweating, and the air conditioner blew frigid air on his cheeks and
chin.

Outside, the guest parking area was bare of
other cars, and he sat alone in the dark car in a dark corner of
the lot. He adjusted his shoulders in the small bucket seat. A
cramp started between his shoulder blades and spread down his spine
to the back of his knee.

Lizzy Pajari should leave soon. Her last
appointment had been from eight to nine, and the white guy in the
gi had left ten minutes ago.

Mannix listened to a new thumping rap album
that one of the guys on the team had told him that he had to get,
but he kept his knees and arms still. He draped on wrist over the
steering wheel, and a tattooed tendril of black ink reached out of
his shirt sleeve over the bones of his wrist.

A red sports car, license plate
WHIZZY
, scooted out of the employee’s parking lot. The
overhead streetlights glinted on the blond hair of the person in
the driver’s seat.

There she was.

Mannix’s black Lamborghini Gallardo slithered
onto the road behind the red car.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at her car
jumping through the sallow pools of the street lights in the night,
but it seemed to be a Porsche Boxster, a downmarket Porsche for
people who didn’t want to spring for a Nine-Eleven.

Mannix shook his head while he spun the
steering wheel around a corner. Gina’s obsession with labels had
influenced him. She had been after him to trade in his Gallardo for
an Aventador, which would have meant plunking down an additional
two hundred grand that he sure as hell didn’t have in his back
pocket, which pissed him off no end.

Mannix let the Boxster get two car lengths
ahead of him on the bridge that crossed the dry riverbed into the
university district. Lizzy’s driving had a snappy edge to it. She
must like her rides tinged with danger. That boded well.

He followed her back to her dorm and idled in
the parking lot, watching her half-carry the other girl from the
car into the dorm that blazed with light.

So she was a helpful, sweet girl, too.

That boded even better.

He raised his cell phone, zoomed in on the
girls, and clicked a picture just as the taller girl vomited into
the hedge. The cell phone camera was so good that it captured the
sparkle from the overhead parking lot lights on the arcing
vomit.

Mannix’s smile took on a grim edge as stripes
of pain burned down his back. He threw the Gallardo into gear,
jetting out of the parking lot, and let speed distract his
mind.

That night, Theo drove to his house in the
Apache Tears Ranch development. White block security walls rose on
both sides of the road like a wind-carved canyon.

The garage door clanked up, and Theo drove
in, sliding his car into the third parking space. His housekeeper’s
blue Accord was in the second space, and his nighttime security
guy’s jet black, gleaming pick-up loomed in the first spot.

They thought it was kind of him, that he let
them park in the garage.

Theo thought it was obvious to shield their
cars from the burning desert sun. He had too much space.

His father would have thought it indulgent to
allow the help to park in the garage, but he was dead and so got no
vote.

Theo walked into the house through the sleek,
modern kitchen, yelling, “
Hola!
Rosita!”

“
Hola, Theo! Como esta?”

“
Bueno, gracias!”
he yelled back,
walking toward her voice in the living room.
“Donde esta
Noah?”
asking where Noah was.

Noah and Javier, his security guys and
cousins, had come on board six months ago, after Theo had moved
into the new house when the Santiago Rojas case had started heating
up. Rosita had been with Theo since he had moved back to the
Southwest after law school when, evidently, he had become either
too busy or too lazy to clean his own bathrooms, even when he had
rented a two-bedroom apartment downtown.

“Noah is checking outside,” she called back.
“You want supper?”

“No, thanks. I grabbed a wrap at the
office.”

Rosita came out of the bathroom she had been
scrubbing, wiping her hands on her apron. “You shouldn’t eat just a
wrap. You need proper food. I put some tamales in your
freezer.”

He grinned at her and grabbed a beer out of
the fridge. “Thank you, Rosita.”

Hordes of college students shoved past each
other on the ground floor of the nightclub, jamming in the swirling
spotlights and glitter from the lasers and mirror ball near the
dark ceiling overhead. Smoke hung in the air, drifting like spirits
though the light beams. The beat boomed through the haphazard
pyramids of speakers in all six corners of the room. The DJ spun
good tunes: thumping dance songs that got the whole crowd crumping
even while just walking to the bar for a drink.

Lizzy laid halfway across the bar, her feet
kicking far above the floor, and screamed her order for a lemon
drop martini to the bartender. She couldn’t hear her own raspy
voice shrilling over the blaring music and the people yelling into
each others’ hands cupped over their ears. The red glitter ball
over on the end of the bar threw spangles that jittered to the
beat.

She checked her phone, but the notification
bar was empty. No text from Theo.

Lizzy slid backward off the bar, and Georgie
jostled her while yelling her own order for an apple brandy.

“You can’t drink that at a nightclub!” Lizzy
hollered at her. “That’s a restaurant drink!”

Georgie shrugged. “I’m obsessed! Deal!” She
turned her back to the bar and squinted at the crowd. It was weird
that Georgie hadn’t worn her contacts, but Lizzy had driven, so
whatever. Georgie yelled, “So what’re you in the market for!”

“Someone fun!” Lizzy yelled. Someone elbowed
Lizzy in the head as they tried to get close enough to the bar to
order. She rubbed her head. “No strings!”

“That’s my girl! You want a particular type?
Beefed up, rough scrog? Slow, sensitive guy?”

Lizzy’s phone buzzed, but a phone number from
an six-oh-nine area code appeared. The few people in New Jersey who
she might want to talk to were all in her contact list, so that
must be from someone else. She denied the call.

Still no text from Theo, either.

She snagged her drink off the bar and handed
the bartender enough money to cover their bill plus tip. “I don’t
know. Just not a blond.”

Georgie laughed into the blasting music and
took her drink from the bartender. An LED in the stem of the glass
lit up the apple brandy like it was a magic orb. The top shelf
drinks got the glowing glasses, so you could see how much everyone
had paid for their drink. Glowing drinks hovered in the dark room
like neon ball lightening.

Georgie said, “That’s the attitude. Why the
fuck are you checking your phone every thirty seconds?”

Lizzy’s casual profanity had rubbed off on
Georgie these last two years. “No fucking reason.”

“Bullshit.”

Lizzy shrugged and sipped her martini. Sour
lemon slid on her tongue and puckered her mouth. The guy might have
forgotten to add the sugar, but as long as the vodka was in there,
Lizzy didn’t care that much, probably. She screamed at Georgie, “I
may have suggested to someone that he could meet us here.”

Georgie’s expression went all aghast and
non-sophisticated.
“Not The Dom!”

“No! Can you imagine him in a college bar,
grinding?”

Georgie laughed and recovered her poise.
“No.”

“Just this guy I met at the Devilhouse party
last week. We’ve been texting.”

“Awesome! Sexting?” Georgie cupped her hands
around her ear for Lizzy’s answer.

“Just texting.” Lizzy switched so she could
funnel Georgie’s voice into her ear over the assaulting music.

Georgie yelled, “Well, maybe there’s some
value in that. Is he cute?” They switched.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if he’s my type.”
Switch.

Georgie flicked one manicured eyebrow to
dismiss Lizzy’s silliness, then yelled into her ear,
“Your
type.
Jesus, Lizzy. Branch out.”

“I like ‘em how I like ‘em. I don’t want to
branch out.”

“Climb on this guy’s branch a couple times
and then see if he’s your type.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Lizzy stirred her drink
with the swizzle stick, hoping that the sugar had just fallen to
the bottom of the glass, but the lemon drop martini was still
tongue-shrinking tart.

“For a guy who you texted and asked to meet
you here, you sound entirely too ambivalent.”

“He’s cute, and he’s got a nice bod,
but—”

“So what’s the problem?”

And the problem. “He’s just kind of
medium.”

Georgie’s derisive snort annoyed Lizzy.
Georgie yelled, “I like my steak medium. What in the hell are you
talking about,
medium?”

“His eyes are hazel, kind of light brown but
not blue or green or dark or anything. His hair is kind of blond on
top but darker on the sides. He’s fit, even stacked, but not
juiced. He’s a lawyer.”

“Piercings?” Georgie asked.

“None visible.”

“Whips and chains?” Georgie’s question
sounded more confident.

“Not that I know of.”

“Oh my God, you might accidentally date an
adult.”

“You are no fucking help.”

“On the contrary, I am all kinds of fucking
help. I’m going to
help
you get some
fucking
. Now,
either your adult shows up, or he doesn’t, but either way, you’re
getting some dick tonight.”

Georgie was funny when she tried to be crude
because it never quite sounded unrehearsed. Real Jerseyans would
eat her alive.

Lizzy bobbled her head to show her dithering.
“Yeah. Well, maybe.”

“Nope, that’s the plan. How about that guy?”
Georgie pointed over her drink at a basic frat guy in a tee shirt
and jeans with a pouf of black hair on the top of his shaved
head.

“You want me to fuck Mr. Mushroom Head? I
might catch a fungus.”

“Or that guy?” This time, she pointed to a
black guy with nicely coiffed hair and sweet smile, laughing with
buddies.

“I don’t know. I just got my drink.” Even if
sour shivers ran down her neck every time she sipped it. It was
kind of worse than she had thought.

“I’m going after cutie pie over there. You
just mope then.” Georgie slipped into the crowd, sliding around
people like she was fog meandering around warm rocks. Her glowing
apple brandy led the way like a lantern in the darkness.

The other glowing drinks bobbed and wove
through the tight crowd like alcoholic fireflies in the night.
Lizzy missed New Jersey and fireflies for a second.

A guy next to Lizzy appraised her with a
creepy full-body scan. “Well, hello,” he said. “Are you a parking
ticket? ‘Cause you've got
fine
written all over you.”

Oh, Jesus.
Lizzy kept her hand on her
glass, repressing the urge to flip him off. “Hey, look. It’s the
cops.”

Lizzy’s phone vibrated in her hand. The text
icon glowed in the corner, and her heart tapped out a drum beat.
She opened the text pages.

Theo:
I just got here. Where are
you?

Lizzy typed back:
Drinking at the bar.
Near the whirling red mirror ball. Georgie dumped me to dance with
some guy. A creeper is hitting on me.

Theo:
I’m on my way to rescue you.

Lizzy thought about going all Jersey girl on
him and insisting that she didn’t need any goddamn man to rescue
her, but he was just texting. Sometimes, you’ve got to let things
slide.

And the sentiment was nice.

The guy who was hitting on her stepped closer
and leaned on the bar. “The cops must be here to arrest you,
because you’ve stolen my heart.”

“Oh my God. Just get away, creeper.”

She tried to look for Theo but couldn’t see a
damn thing from the bottom of the crowd, like being lost in a
shoving, shouting forest. Skanks occupied all the barstools, and
Lizzy was just above eye-level with the slopped liquor on the bar.
She was definitely nose-level with the funk of dribbled beer.

She sipped her drink before she remembered
that it was gross, and then she had to suck the oily bitterness off
her tongue.

Beside her, the creeper leaned down and said
near her ear, “Can I follow you home? ‘Cause my parents always told
me to follow my dreams.”

Revulsion rippled through Lizzy’s body, and
her shoulders hunched, trying to shake it off. Bitter lemon drop
martini hacked up in the back of her throat. She grabbed her purse,
feeling for the comforting weight of the Taser inside and stepped
backward. “Get the fuck away from me, or I swear to God—”

“Hello there,” a man’s voice said behind
her.

She looked up, way up, at Theo, who actually
stuck up out of the crowd. He had to be over six feet, though
anybody over five-ten just looked
tall
to Lizzy. Theo had
that amused-at-her grin on his face again, and laughter lurked in
his caramel eyes. At least he didn’t look all broken up like he had
last night. Going out was probably good for him. She felt all
virtuous about dragging him to a club.

“Hey,” the creeper said from behind
Lizzy.

Theo glared over her head, his line of sight
slanting down his nose at the shorter man. He braced one muscular
arm on the bar beside Lizzy, establishing his territory, including
her.

The creeper slunk into the jostling
crowd.