Rock Chick 07 Regret (53 page)

“That skirt. Burn it.”

I was confused, I liked my skirt, no, I
loved
it.

“Why?” I asked.

His hands came to my shirt and he pulled it up, my arms went with it and he whipped it off.

“
Mamita
, just don’t wear it again.”

I decided to give in, not wear it in front of him but not burn it. I could wear it on Crete and he’d never know.

“Oh, all right,” I agreed but I didn’t sound happy about it (because I wasn’t).

His hands came to my hips and mine went back to his shirt.

“Now, what did Lee try to stop?” He went back to his earlier subject.

I’d kind of lost track of things so my mind rewound the evening and I remembered Eddie’s fight with Jerry which Lee didn’t even see and I got confused.

“Me stun gunning Jerry, my father’s henchman?” I guessed as I finished with the buttons, lifted my hands and pulled the shirt off his shoulders.

His hands left my hips when I leaned into him and tugged the flannel down his arms. Then I whipped it around, shrugged it on and started to button the two buttons at my breasts while his hands came back to me, this time to the front button and zip on my skirt.

“Nope, Eddie called, told me about Jerry. Lee knows I know about that. What else happened tonight, after the fight?”

I pulled in my lips and tried to think as Hector slid down the zip on my skirt (and thinking was not easy to do). I decided to help him and lifted the hem of the flannel to get it out of his way. He slid the skirt over my hips and pushed down, it fell to my ankles but Hector’s hands, and body, froze.

Then he moved, one hand went low on my right hip, the other one went to the side of my belly by my hip and he framed the bandage that was at my hip bone with his hands.

“What the fuck?” he muttered then his eyes cut to me.

“Oh yeah!” I yelled, even though he was right there, barely a foot away. “I got a tattoo.”

Hector’s brows went up and I smiled at him.

“That must be what Lee was talking about,” I informed him. “He didn’t think it was a good idea. Neither did Eddie. Or Hank, for that matter. Tex thinks I’m a nut. Duke and Mace liked it, though, and the girls thought it was
aces
. So do I. Look!”

I bent over and peeled the bandage away, exposing the brand new tattoo, it and my skin glistening with tattoo goo.

It was a black panther, fierce, graceful and snarling.

I
loved
it.

“It’s a black panther,” I informed Hector unnecessarily as his hands were still framing it, his body was leaned slightly to the side, his head cocked and his eyes were locked on my hip. “I thought my idea was lame at first. But I couldn’t think of anything else that represented you.” I noticed his head jerk and his eyes slice to me but I didn’t process it, I kept talking, “Then I told the artist guy about you, that you had black hair and black eyes that could go really intense and you were a badass and I liked the way you moved, graceful and in control, like a cat. He sketched that and me and
all
the girls, even Shirleen, thought it was
perfect
, so, I said –”

I stopped talking because Hector’s hands moved away from my hip and they closed around my waist, tight. So tight, his fingers were digging in and that got my attention.

He’d straightened and those black eyes I told the tattoo artist about
were
intense, beyond intense, they were burning right into me.

“How fucked up are you?” he asked.

I thought this was a strange question so my head tilted to the side and I asked back, “What?”

He let me go but only so he could pull off his t-shirt and he did this fast.

At the sight of his chest, my breath left me in a whoosh.

“How fucked up are you?” he repeated, unclipped his gun from his belt and threw it on the nightstand, all the while looking at me. “Sadie, fucked up. Shitfaced. Trashed. Loaded.
Drunk
. How fucked up are you?”

I was still confused, watching him, feeling his heat, his intensity and something hungry about him. Seriously hungry. Therefore, I was watching him, confused, yet getting turned on at the same time.

Way
turned on.

He leaned down and pulled off his boots, sending them, in turn, sailing across the room.

Then he hands came back to me, his thumbs went into my underwear, hooking into the sides, then he shoved them down until they fell to my ankles.

Oh my
God
.

Did he just do that?

“Sadie, answer me.”

“Um, on a scale of one to ten?” I asked, unsure how to answer, unsure what to do, not even sure I still remembered how to breathe.

He lifted me up, I let out a surprised gasp and my arms and legs wrapped around him.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

“You put my mark on you. To show my appreciation, I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name and I wanna make sure you remember it. Now, how fuckin’ drunk are you?”

My heart was beating wildly, my belly had melted to oblivion and I was pretty certain sure I’d had a mini-orgasm.

What I wasn’t was drunk, not anymore.

“I’m not drunk anymore.”

“Good.” He put a knee to the bed but didn’t put me down. “Now,
mamita
, where the tat is, I can’t be on top so you got two choices, either you ride me or I get creative. Your choice but chose now.”

I swallowed.

“Hector –” I started.

He cut me off, “Now.”

Oh my.

He meant business.

And I liked his business.

So, I whispered, “Creative.”

He grinned, slow and sweet.

Then he got creative.

Chapter Nineteen

Ibuprofen and Midol

Sadie

“
Preciosa
, wake up.”

My eyes opened and I saw Hector sitting on the side of the bed. He had on jeans and a tight-fitting, navy t-shirt and he looked awake and alert.

I glanced at him through
slitted
eyes.

He had worked last night, late, then he’d vigorously shown his appreciation for my tattoo just like he said he would.

And, really, how bizarre was
that?
It was
my
tattoo but apparently Hector was more excited about it than I was, as in
loads
more in a macho-man, badass, fuck me until I screamed his name type of way, of course.

Though, I didn’t scream his name when he made me come but I gasped it and I did this
loud
.

Nevertheless,
he
hadn’t tied one on last night, mixing margaritas with Fat Tires and tequila shots.
He
was likely not
hungover
like I knew I was at that very moment.
He
was not having a life filled with daily multiple-traumas. And lastly,
he
didn’t have an opening at his gallery tomorrow night.

So
he
could be awake and alert on a Sunday morning.

I
was
hungover
. I felt it in my stomach and my head, so
I
was going to sleep.

To communicate all of that, I mumbled, “Sleep.” Then turned and burrowed into the pillows.

Once I did this, the covers were pulled down and I made a peeved noise but he ignored this. His hands went to my waist, he twisted me, pulling me up and across his lap, settling me there and his arms came around me.

I decided to ignore his latest smooth move and shoved my face in his neck, burrowing into his heat and hoping he’d get the message.

“Sadie, look at me,” he murmured and the way he did made my heart squeeze painfully.

I took a deep breath wondering what was happening now, pulled my face from his neck and looked at him.

“Jimmy’s downstairs,” he told me.

I let out the breath.

That was it?

Another visitor?

Boy, Hector was a popular guy.

“Jimmy?” I asked.

“Detective Marker.”

My body went tight.

Hector’s hand went to my neck and slid up into my hair.

“Harvey Balducci was murdered last night.”

All of a sudden, I felt even sicker.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Jimmy wants to talk to you.”

That’s when I understood and I felt something lodge in my throat, so big, it threatened to choke me.

“I didn’t do it,” I blurted and, as I was concentrating on swallowing, I didn’t notice Hector’s brows draw together.

“Sadie –”

I cut him off, beginning to feel panic slide through my system. “I didn’t do it. I swear. I didn’t.”

The arm Hector had around me got tight and I watched his eyes start to narrow.

“What the fuck?”

I kept on, “I don’t like Harvey, he’s a jerk and I want him to stay away from me but I didn’t kill him, Hector, I swear.”

I’d begun to tremble, my body shaking, Hector’s hand came out of my hair and locked around my waist. Then he gave me a gentle but firm shake. I stilled and looked at him. His eyes were now fully narrowed and he looked angry.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You said Detective Marker is here to talk to me –”

“Jimmy’s here to make sure you hear it from someone who gives a shit. He’s here to make sure you’re okay. He’s here to let you know Ricky got bonded out this morning. And he’s here to ask you a few questions. He’s not here because you’re a suspect. Your phones are tapped, practically every move you make is followed by cameras and you’re never fuckin’ alone. Even without that, no one would think it was you. Jesus, Sadie, what’s in your fuckin’ head?”

 
I felt fear replacing the panic in my system at the first part of his speech so I missed most of the other stuff he said.

“Ricky was bonded out?” I breathed.

I watched, fascinated, as the anger slid out of his eyes and a different kind of anger replaced it (don’t ask me how I knew this, I just knew) and then I saw a muscle leap in Hector’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess Donny and Marty were moved to brotherly love once
Harvey’d
been poisoned while on the inside.”

I closed my eyes.

The doorbell rang.

Hector muttered, “Fuck.”

I opened my eyes again and he was looking at me.

“Get dressed and come downstairs. We’ll talk later about what was in your fuckin’ head,” he finished.

Great,
just great
.

He stood up, taking me with him and putting me on my feet.

I was realizing for the first time that I was naked as the day I was born when both of Hector’s hands came to my neck, fingers sliding up in my hair, thumbs on the undersides of my jaw and he tipped my head back to look at him.

He touched his mouth to mine softly, eyes open the whole time and when his head moved back half an inch, he said, voice low and powerful, “He isn’t gonna fuckin’ touch you.”

He watched me until I nodded, my head moving against his hands.

Then he was gone.

I pulled my head together, quickly got dressed (in the forbidden skirt but I shunned the Stella tee and put on Hector’s flannel because it covered more), ran to the bathroom and let out a surprised, muted scream when I looked at myself in the mirror.