Rock Chick 03 Redemption (22 page)

Then, he told me he knew my place was trashed, Mace had told him at Lincoln’s Road House.

“You’re not safe to go back there,” he said.

“I’m going,” I returned.

“We’l see.”

Jeez, there was just no shaking this guy.

“Yo u
do
know that there’s this little thing cal ed the Nineteenth Amendment giving women the right to vote?” I asked.

“I heard of that,” he said and there was a smile in his voice.

“And there’s this whole movement cal ed fem… in… is…

im.” I said it slowly, like he was a dim child. “Where women started working, demanding equal pay for equal work, raising their voices on issues of the day, taking back the night, stuff like that.”

He rol ed into me, which made me rol onto my back.

“Sounds familiar.”

“Do you have an encyclopedia? Maybe we can look it up. If the words are too big for you to read, I’l read it out loud and explain as I go along.”

He got up on his elbow. “Only if you do it naked.” I slapped his shoulder.

He ignored my slap, threw his thigh over mine and settled in.

I sighed.

Shamus jumped up and walked around on the bed like it was the floor for a bit, then laid down with a loud, doggie groan, his back pressed the length of my side.

I sighed again.

“You Nightingale boys are hard to shake.”

“Remember that,” Hank murmured and wrapped his arm around my waist as if to prove the point.

Chapter Thirteen
This Is Gonna Be Fun

The next morning Hank woke me up and made love to me, catching further at my heart by paying special attention with his mouth and hands to the fading bruises on my neck, arms, hips, even my wrists, like he could erase them and their memory with his touch.

Man, was I in trouble or what?

When we were done, both of us stil breathing heavy, Shamus gave a whine and moved up and down the side of the bed, not taking his eyes off Hank.

“I gotta let him out,” Hank said, giving me a light kiss on the mouth and moving gently away from me.

I nodded and rol ed onto my side, pul ing the pil ow to my middle.

I watched Hank tug on his henley and jeans and walk barefoot out of the room.

I heard a door open and close.

Then something weird happened.

I closed my eyes slowly, languidly, coming down from the high that was Hank’s lovemaking and when I opened them, Bil y’s face was right in mine.

I jerked straight up in bed, stil holding the pil ow to my middle and screamed Hank’s name. The scream was loud, it was shril and it echoed through the house like a gunshot.

I scooted up the bed, clutching the pil ow and getting to my knees. My back hit the headboard when Hank ran into the room.

“Jesus Roxie,” he said, looking at me. I had no idea I was deathly pale and as wild-eyed as Uncle Tex was last night.

I was staring at nothing. Bil y wasn’t there. My eyes moved to Hank and he sat on the bed, his arms coming to me, taking the pil ow away and pul ing me into his warm, solid body.

“Holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m seeing things. I could swear Bil y was right here,” I told him and I could feel my body trembling.

He swore under his breath and pul ed me across his lap, wrapping the sheet around me and tucking my head in his neck.

“I’m going crazy, or crazier. God, I swear he was right here. I could see him plain as day,” I whispered against his neck, twining my arms around his middle.

“It was a flashback, sweetheart. Victims of violence get them al time.”

I was stil shaking and I felt the tears crawling up my throat.

“Dammit,” I choked, burrowing into him, trying to get him to absorb me or trying to absorb some of his strength into me, I didn’t know which. I felt the wetness on my cheeks transferring itself to his skin. “I’m so fucking weak.”

“I shouldn’t have brought you back here. I was worried about that.”

I shook my head, tears stil coming. “It’s me, I’m weak.”

“It isn’t you, it could happen to anyone.” I knew it wouldn’t happen to Indy or Al y or Daisy or anyone he knew. They were made of sterner stuff than me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Why?”

“I feel stupid.”

“Christ, Sunshine, give yourself a break.” I nodded but didn’t agree.

He held me until I quit shaking, his arms tight around me.

Then he stood up, taking me with him and set me on my feet. He bent and picked my panties up from the floor, silently handing them to me. I put them on while he dug in his drawer and pul ed out an olive-drab thermal, long sleeve shirt with a kickass skul in tan emblazoned on the back. It was a Lucky thermal and it was sweet. He yanked it over my head, I shoved my arms through and it fel over my hips.

“Let’s go get Shamus,” he said.

He guided me to the backdoor, holding my hand the whole time, and opened it. Shamus bolted inside. Then he walked me to the kitchen and let go of my hand and started to make coffee.

“Feed Shamus, wil you?” Hank asked.

He told me where to find the stuff. The sleeves of the Lucky thermal went over my hands and I wiped the remains of the tears off my face with them. Then I pushed them back up my forearms and looked around the living room.

It was tidy. The Fat Tire print was gone, the Skinny Dip print had been repositioned to center over the couch.

Everything was where it was supposed to be; the broken lamp hadn’t been replaced but any remnants of it were swept away. It was like Bil y hadn’t even been there.

Instead, it looked like when I first walked in after Hank’s and my date.

I looked away before I started decorating again, took a deep breath and made Shamus his breakfast. While I did this, Shamus jumped around me in happy anticipation of being fed. When I set his bowl on the floor, he shoved his face into the wet food, his body stil moving with his wagging tail.

“He’s a happy dog,” I told Hank, staring down at Shamus and wishing my life could be as simple as his. Food, happy.

Walk, happy. Hank, happy.

Okay, maybe my life could be like that, or a version of that, but I wasn’t going to go there.

Hank got in front of me and then smack in my space, backing me up until my bottom hit the counter. He got so close I could feel the heat from his body.

His hands came to either side of my neck and he looked into my eyes. “How you doin’?” he asked.

I nodded. “Better. Sorry about that.”

“If you apologize again –”

“Sorry. Sorry… um, sorry!” Oh God, I couldn’t quit saying sorry.

Hank smiled at me. “Shut up,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Put your arms around me.”

I was so weirded out by that morning’s experience, I immediately did as I was told.

He got even closer. “How’m I doin’?”

I blinked up at him. “Pardon?”

His hands slid down my shoulders and linked around my back. Then he rubbed his nose against mine.

I hated it when he did that, mainly because I loved it when he did that.

“Convincin’ you to stay,” he went on quietly.

Shit.

“I’m leaving today, Hank.”

His eyes got lazy.

I hated it when they did that, mainly because I loved it when they did that.

I gave my foot a little stomp, both to show him I was serious and to show myself.

“You think I’m staying!” I snapped.

“I know you’re stayin’,” he replied.

I rol ed my eyes to the ceiling then brought them back to him. “I’m going to have coffee, make you French toast for breakfast and you’re going to take me back to Tex’s. Then, I’m going to get my car, find Annette and go.”

“French toast sounds good.”

He obviously felt like ignoring the rest of what I said.

Whatever.

“Do you have bread, eggs, maple syrup?” I asked.

His head dipped and went to my neck. With his lips there, he said, “Probably.”

“Powdered sugar, cream cheese?” I went on.

“Probably not,” he said, mouth stil at my neck.

Oh wel , I’d make do.

“Move back, I’m going to get started.”

His head came up and he was grinning at me.

I rol ed my eyes at him and heard him laugh softly.

He let me go and stepped away.

I walked to the coffee and pul ed open the cabinet above it, figuring that’s where the mugs would be because that’s where I’d keep the mugs. The mugs were there and I took out two.

“How do you take your coffee?” I asked.

He came up behind me, pressed my hips against the counter and his arms went around me, his mouth going back to my neck.

“Black,” he answered, just before both his hands went under the shirt; one went north, one went south.

“Hank!” My body jerked but there was no getting away from him. “Let me go.”

“Cal me Whisky and I’l let you go,” he said against my neck.

Good God.

I ignored his request and shouted, “Let me go!” One hand went into my panties, the other hand cupped my breast.

Oh shit.

Ten minutes later I was pressing my back against his body and holding onto the counter for dear life. My head was tilted back resting on his shoulder, my forehead was pressed into his neck. He’d tilted his head forward and he was listening to me gasp.

The fingers on both of his hands did a delicious swirl.

“Cal me Whisky,” he murmured.

I didn’t delay and I did what he asked.

Then he took care of me, orgasm number two of the day and I hadn’t even been awake as many hours.

He held me, my back to his front, his arms wrapped around my midriff, while I recovered.

Once my breathing evened he asked, “Scared of my house anymore?”

My bel y melted and I let out a quick breath from my nostrils. Hank was trying to erase the bad memories by giving me good ones.

God, he was
such
a nice guy.

Though, he was a nice guy in a seriously sexy way.

I shook my head.

He kissed my neck. “You feel like stayin’ yet?” Jeez.

He might be a nice guy but he sure was a stubborn one.

I shook my head.

“Stubborn,” he murmured, his mouth behind my ear.

“I was just thinking that about you,” I told him.

I felt his smile rather than saw it.

“This is gonna be fun,” he said.

I doubted that.

* * * * *

We had French toast. We had a shower. He took me to Tex’s and I heard him on the phone in the kitchen while I did the whole getting dressed production.

I cal ed Annette and she answered with a sleepy, “Yo bitch.” She was in Denver and she told me she and Jason were catching up on sleep and we arranged to meet later at Fortnum’s.

I cal ed Uncle Tex at the store (he was stil not using his cel phone) and got the address for where my car was.

Then, Hank took me to get my car.

I thought this was fishy, Hank being so nice, taking me to my car, considering I intended to drive off into the sunset with it. But I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especial y Hank’s mouth; his mouth was mesmerizing.

The guy in dirty blue coveral s was sitting behind the counter, flipping through the paper.

“I’m here to pick up my car,” I told him when he looked up.

He looked at Hank, then back at me.

“Sorry, can’t give it to you.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“Some cops came in awhile ago, towed it to the impound. Said it was evidence in a crime.” My body went stil . “What crime?”

He shrugged.

My head turned slowly to look at Hank. He was looking pleased with himself. That was when my body turned slowly to face Hank. “You know anything about this?” His lips twitched. “Might do.”

My hands fisted at my sides, I stomped my foot and let out strangled noise.

Hank did a ful on smile, tagged me around the waist and pul ed me into his body. “Told you you were stayin’,” he said.

“I… you…” I stopped and made the strangled noise again.

One of his arms wrapped around my waist, the other one slid into my hair.

“God, you’re cute,” he said.

“You’re a jerk,” I replied.

He shook his head, then bent it and kissed me dizzy.

I blinked up at him when he was done.

Then he said, “This is fun.”

* * * * *

Hank took me to Fortnum’s and everyone was there; Indy, Lee, Al y, Daisy, Uncle Tex, Duke, Jet and Eddie.

It was like they were waiting for the show.

I stomped in and Duke opened his mouth to speak but I put up my hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. So, yeah, you cal ed it. I put you al through the mil . It wasn’t like I
wanted
to be assaulted and abducted,” I snapped at him.

“I was just gonna say, good to see you safe,” Duke said.

“Wel …” I huffed, the wind out of my sails, “Thank you.” He shook his head at me like he wondered about my sanity. I couldn’t say I blamed him: I was beginning to wonder about my sanity too.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Hank stood close to my side and I looked up to him.

“Don’t you have to go to work or something? Interrogate suspects? File reports? Testify in court? That kind of thing,” I asked, sounding uppity.

He put his arm around my shoulders and dipped his face to mine, his eyes smiling, his mouth not. “It’s Sunday, I only interrogate suspects on weekdays if I can manage it.” My head jerked. “It’s Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

Shit. I’d been away a week.

“My life’s a shambles,” I whispered.

He squeezed my shoulder and, for some reason, I felt reassured.

I had no time to process my feelings of reassurance as Daisy bel ied up to us, looking up at Hank. “Back off, big boy. You’ve had her long enough. We got girl talk.” Then she grabbed my hand and pul ed me into the shelves of books.