Rock Chick 05 Revenge (15 page)

“Stay here, I’m gonna check the house.”

I did as I was told.

When he was done, he came back to me and closed the door.

 
“Ava.”

I looked up at him.

“I’m spendin’ the night.”

I let out a breath.

Thank you
God
.

I nodded.

He watched me a beat and said, “I’m gonna do a scan of the neighborhood. Lock the door behind me.”

I nodded again. He turned to leave.

“Luke?”

He turned back to me.

“You should park your Porsche in my garage. This neighborhood isn’t good.”

“Got an extra remote?”

I took him to the kitchen, dug through my junk drawer, gave him the extra remote and an extra set of keys.

He left. I locked the door behind him.

I walked upstairs and went straight to the linen closet, pulling out the bedding and extra pillows for the futon. My futon was a fancy one with armrests and everything. It was a pain in the ass to get open because it weighed a ton. I figured I’d make the bed when Luke got back. He’d probably be able to pull it out by glaring at it.

I went to my bedroom and dropped the Roman blinds. I’d painted my bedroom in a soft, eggshell blue. It had a white bed stand, solid wood, no slats, which meant no way to cuff me to it, which was not why I bought it but that had now become an additional bonus; two thin white nightstands on either side; a white dressing table with a big mirror; and a tall, narrow seven-drawer lingerie dresser. The sheets were pale green, the bedspread and pillow shams were a pattern of eggshell blue and green that matched the tile around the fireplace. The big windows had wispy white curtains and custom-made Roman blinds. I took one look at it and decided I was never going to leave it, ever again, in my whole, fucking life.

Unfortunately, before I could do that I had to take out my contacts.

I pulled off my silver and dropped it on the dressing table, unbuckled and flipped off my shoes, yanked the scarf out of my belt loops and pulled off my t-shirt. I took out my barrette and arranged my hair up in a messy bunch on top of my head.

I didn’t know how long it took to “scan the neighborhood” and park the Porsche but, considering Luke was likely thorough in his job, I figured it would take awhile. Therefore, I thought I was safe (and alone) in the house for that while.

What could I say? I’d just been kidnapped by beefy, Italian, bad guys. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I walked barefoot in my jeans and teddy-type-thing to the bathroom, stood at the sink and looked in the mirror.

“Fuck,” I said to myself.

You can say that again,
Bad Ava agreed.

You shouldn’t curse, even if you have been kidnapped. It isn’t very ladylike,
Good Ava chastised.

I ignored both of them, pulled open my medicine cabinet and got my contact solution. I had just readied the case with solution when I saw a movement at the bathroom door.

I whirled and shrieked (yes, girlie
shrieked
), my hand coming up to my chest.

Luke stood there.

Okay, so, maybe it didn’t take long to scan the neighborhood. And I was seeing that I should have probably closed the bathroom door.

Luke’s eyes were on my torso and, even standing all the way across the bathroom, I could tell they were ink.

Ho-ly
shit
.

I turned back to the sink, trying to be cool. It wasn’t like I was naked or anything. In fact, I had dresses that I wore out in public that showed more skin.

I leaned into the mirror and pulled open an eye with one hand, my index finger of the other up and at the ready to take out the contact.

Luke materialized behind me in the mirror.
Close
behind me.

I poked myself in the eye.

After I quit blinking, I glared at him. I was certain he’d be laughing or at least giving me a half-grin.
 

He was not. His mind was clearly on other things. I knew this when his hand, fingers splayed, hit my side and slid around my midriff. His eyes watched its movement in the mirror.

My knees did a little wobble.

“We need to make up the futon,” I told him, deciding to pretend the wobble didn’t happen.

“Why?” he asked.

“So you can sleep there,” I replied and successfully (thank God) pulled out the contact.

“I’m sleepin’ with you,” he said, his hand sliding further across my midriff toward my other side, which meant to accommodate its motion, my body moved back into his.

“No you aren’t.”

“Yes I am.”

 
“Luke, I don’t want to argue about this.”

His eyes moved to mine in the mirror. “Then don’t.”

Shit. How did you respond to that?

My head dropped and I started cleaning my contact in my palm and widened my net to try and pretend everything else that was happening to my body wasn’t happening (rapid heartbeat, blood warming, nipples hardening). Not just the knee wobble.

I pulled at his arm to lean into the mirror to take out the other contact. He watched me do this, which, I might add, was supremely nerve-wracking. I got the contact on the first go and leaned back, squirting solution on it in my palm to clean it. Luke’s hand slid up to the side of my breast so his forearm was pressed underneath them.

There was the knee wobble again.

Hell and damnation.

I looked at us in the mirror and we were fuzzy. But even fuzzy I liked what I saw.

“Luke.”
 

I watched as his head bent and felt as his mouth hit my neck.

“I like this,” he said against my neck and showed me what he meant by rubbing his thumb along the side of my breast.

It felt nice.

I closed my eyes then opened them again.

“Noah liked it too,” I told him, calmly morphing into Barlow Super Bitch but my heart was beating so fast I thought it would tear right out of my chest I was finding it hard to breathe. None of the physical manifestations of Luke’s touch stopped me. “He liked it a lot. So much, it’s kinda surprising he didn’t steal it when he cleaned out my bank accounts, took all my Auntie Ella’s gold jewelry and disappeared.”

I felt and saw Luke’s head come up and I was pretty certain he was looking at me in the mirror.

“He should have taken it, a memento of good times,” I went on, seriously Barlow Super Bitch.

“Let’s go back to the part about cleaning out your bank accounts,” Luke’s mouth was close to my ear and I actually felt his deep voice rumble through my body.

“Five thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars, everything I had in savings and checking. It took him days of maximum ATM withdrawals but, you have to hand it to him, he stuck to it.”

I ignored the scary, pissed off life force emanating from Luke that filled the room as I opened the medicine cabinet. I replaced the solution and aimed for the bottle that I knew was my face soap and as I did this Luke’s arm dropped away.

Then I felt Luke’s presence move away.

When I knew he was gone (and peeked to check), I put both my hands to the basin and dropped my head.

Now, that wasn’t nice,
Good Ava sounded disappointed.

It wasn’t,
Bad Ava, surprisingly, agreed.

“Shut up,” I whispered, washed my face, brushed my teeth, slathered with moisturizer and went to my room.
 

I closed the door this time and changed into my pajamas (cream, silky-satin, drawstring pants and a matching camisole with spaghetti straps, gathers under my breasts and a low, straight back that cut just under my shoulder blades). I got in bed and pulled up the covers.

I didn’t know where Luke was but I told myself I didn’t care noting that now I was lying to myself.

I was planning my strategy to get all men out of my life which included gaining back every one of those seventy-five pounds and then some by eating my way through the entire inventory of LaMar’s donuts every day for a month as well as firing Riley, when the door opened and Luke walked in.

The house behind him was dark and so was the room. As I watched his shadowy form move, he walked right to the bed and sat on the edge like he’d been in my room hundreds of times.

“Luke, the futon is in the second bedroom,” I informed him.

I heard his boot hit the floor.

“Or, you can sleep on the couch downstairs,” I went on.

I heard his other boot hit the floor.

“There’s pillows and blankets on the futon, I got them out,” I persevered.

He leaned forward a bit, lifted his arms so his hands went between his shoulder blades and he tugged off his tee.

“Luke!”

He stood and for a second I thought he was going to leave. Also I had to admit, for a second, I felt unbelievably disappointed.

Instead, he dropped his cargo pants and I heard his belt hit the floor.

Holy crap!

Then he pulled the covers back and settled on his back in the bed.

I came up on an elbow and glared at him or in his general direction. “You aren’t sleeping here.”

“What’s Noah’s last name?”

I blinked in the darkness.

“Excuse me?”

“His last name.”

“Dexter, why?”

“He white?”

“Sorry?”

“Caucasian.”

“Yes,” I answered, deciding to move away from this strange turn of the conversation. “About the futon –”

“Do you know his birth date?”

“Luke –”

“Ava, what’s his fucking birthday?”

“July twenty-third, why are you asking me this?”

“You got a social security number?”

I felt a thrill slide through me as I cottoned on to the purpose of his interrogation and I shot up to a sitting position in the bed.

“Don’t you –!” I started to protest but Luke sat up too, faster than I’d seen anyone move giving new meaning to “abs of steel”. In the blink of an eye I found myself on my back, Luke full body on top of me.

“Get off me!” I shouted, bucking my body under his.

“This Noah guy’s got her.”

I was back to blinking, so confused I stilled. “Got who?” I asked.

“The old Ava.”

Instantly I felt the tears stinging my eyes, all fight left me and I turned my head to the side.

His hands came to either side of my face and he turned it back. “He took her when he disappeared, didn’t he?” Luke asked, his voice gentle.

Crapity, crap, crap,
crap
.

His gentle voice got me every fucking time.

“A piece of her,” I whispered, do
not
ask me why but I did (I knew why, The Voice).

“Who’s got the other pieces?”

I shook my head against his hands. I didn’t think the minuscule amount of information I shared on Noah boded well for Noah’s future. Luke, I was realizing, was not the kind of guy who fucked around. I couldn’t imagine that Noah was still in town but I knew Rick and Dave were and I didn’t want Luke hunting them down and doing whatever. They were jerks but they were also history.

“Please, get off me,” I said softly.

“Ava, I spent years doin’ some crazy shit and gettin’ paid well for it. Well enough that by the time I came back to Denver for my father’s funeral I could retire.”

Ho-ly shit.

He’d been twenty-eight! What kind of “crazy shit” paid you enough to retire at twenty-eight?

I sucked in breath and stared.

“To keep from gettin’ bored, because I like it, because I’m good at it and because Lee pays me a shitload of money to do it, I work. I could walk away from it tomorrow and live a good life, even takin’ care of someone along the way.”

Whoa.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I was digging deeper than ever to bury
that
.

“I’d never fuck you over, steal your money. No fuckin’ way.”

And even deeper to bury that.

“Please, Luke, get off me.”

To my surprise he did, sliding off to my side. I immediately turned my back to him and scooted away several inches. He wanted to sleep with me fine, we’d sleep. Then tomorrow, I was moving to Wyoming.

Luke had other ideas.

His arm slid under me, hooked at my waist and hauled me back into his body. The second I made contact, his body pressed into mine and his other arm went around me.

“I want her back,” he said into my hair and his words made me shiver. I had to close my eyes tight to stop my tears and my thoughts.

He went on. “I’ve decided I like the bitchy Ava, the way you throw your attitude around is sexy as hell, but I still want the old Ava back.”