Rock Chick Revenge Read online

  My fine and loose feeling slipped a notch mainly because, again, it felt like he’d slapped me across the face.

  He watched my face change in the streetlight.

  “I’m not stupid,” I whispered.

  He got close and backed me against the car again. I went, my head tilted back to look at him, my feelings still smarting from his comment.

  “So you’re sayin’ you don’t know that every fuckin’ guy’s dick is hard from watchin’ you move. Christ, give you a pole and put you in a g-string, you wouldn’t have been more effective.”

  My mouth dropped open. Then I snapped it shut.

  “I was just dancing,” I told him.

  “Right.”

  “I was.”

  He watched me but stayed silent.

  “I like to dance,” I said softly. “I was just dancing.”

  He kept watching me and it seemed like he did this for a long time. Finally, his hand came to my neck with his thumb out to touch my jaw.

  “Jesus, you aren’t lyin’,” he muttered.

  I shook my head because no, I wasn’t lying. Instead I was freaking out about what he said.

  “I’m never going to dance again,” I said, quietly to myself on a little tremble, so upset at the thought of people watching me, men watching me and having that reaction that I didn’t even care I was quoting bad eighties music. Serious yuck.

  “Ava.”

  My eyes had slid to the side and they came back to Luke. “Men suck,” I whispered. “They take everything. Everything.”

  Before he could respond, I slid out from between him and the car and turned to the door. He didn’t say a word just bleeped the locks. I opened my door and got in. He shut it for me, got in on his side and we glided out into the street.

  I watched Denver pass me as Luke took us to his loft. Neither of us spoke. I was still drunk and I wanted to be happy but I couldn’t stop the dark “all men are bastards” thoughts from flooding my head.

  He parked and we took the elevator to his loft. He switched on the lamps and I went directly to the Triumph t-shirt which was sitting, folded, on the barstool where I left it two days ago. I dumped my purse on the bar, grabbed the tee and walked to the bathroom.

  “I’m going to bed,” I announced and then walked into the bathroom, shut the door, took out my contacts, got ready for bed, put on my glasses and walked out. I dumped my clothes on my suitcases and headed toward the bed.

  I saw that Luke was in the kitchen. I grabbed a pillow and walked to the couch. I threw the pillow down, threw myself on the couch and settled on my side. I was going to sleep there, without a blanket if I had to, I didn’t care.

  On this thought, Luke’s legs came into my vision. I looked up. He was holding a glass of water out to me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ibuprofen and water. Take it, you’ll need it for the morning.”

  “I don’t get hangovers,” I informed him, again not lying. I had to be far more drunk than I was to get a hangover. Sissy called it my gift. She got a hangover after two beers.

  “Take it,” he demanded.

  I was in no mood to argue. I was in the mood to go to sleep for fifty years, wake up an old maid and live out my life in a nursing home with my only excitement being Friday Night Bingo.

  I sat up, took the pills he had in his fist and drank the water. When I was done, he pulled the empty glass from my hand and put it on the coffee table. Then he came back to me and, I kid you not, picked me up (again!), turned and sat on the couch, settling me in his lap, his arms around me.

  “Luke, it really bugs me when you haul me around,” I told him, sounding bitchy.

  He ignored my bitchiness. “We’re gonna talk.”

  Right then, still drunk and feeling in a shitty mood, I thought this was an excellent idea.

  “Good. I have a few things to say,” I informed him.

  He stared at me a beat then said, “Shoot.”

  “First, I’m confiscating this t-shirt,” I announced.

  He kept staring at me. Then he said, “Come again?”

  “From this point on, your Triumph tee is now my Triumph tee,” I declared.

  His lips did that twitch thing like he was trying not to laugh.

  I crossed my arms. “I’m being perfectly serious.”

  “Babe, I’ll make you a deal. As long as you share my bed, the t-shirt is yours.”

  “No. The t-shirt is mine forever,” I countered.

  He shook his head. “You’re not sharin’ my bed, the tee stays here.”

  “I’ll give you twenty-five dollars for it,” I started to haggle.

  The lip twitch came back and it looked like he was losing his battle at biting back his smile. “No,” he said.

  “Fifty.”

  “No.”

  “One hundred dollars!” I cried a little loudly because I had never paid a hundred dollars for a t-shirt in my life and I was worried he would accept.

  “I gave you an offer, it’s the only one you’re gonna get.”

  “Okay then, I’ll steal it,” I blabbed.

  His body started shaking and I was pretty sure it was with silent laughter. “Probably shouldn’t tell me your plan to steal my tee,” he advised.

  “Forget I said anything,” I told him.

  He shook his head still silently laughing and when he was done, his arms got a little tighter. “Now we’re talkin’ about what I want to talk about.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “We’ll get back to your shit later.”

  I made a “harrumph” sound and glared at him.

  “You owe me,” he said (again).

  “I don’t –”

  He interrupted me. “Your first payment is to tell me who else got a piece of you.”

  Was that it?

  I thought he was going to make me clean his bathroom with a toothbrush (or something else, something that required me being naked but I didn’t want to think thoughts of being naked with Luke not when I was sitting in his lap, on his couch, in his loft, wearing his t-shirt, not ever).

  “Okay,” I said happily, shuffled my bottom in his lap, settling in, and I began.

  “There was Dave. He was a sex pervert. Wanted me to go to swingers parties with him and had a huge collection of porn. He tried to convince me this was perfectly normal, which, I’ll grant it is but it wasn’t my scene. He ignored me telling him it wasn’t my scene and he got pushy then he got pouty then he got angry then he started being mean to me so I kicked him out.”

  Luke was silent but he moved, he fell to his side and stretched out on the couch. During this he took me with him. I was so intent on my story, his actions barely registered and I just stretched out too.

  “Before him, there was Rick. He was hot. Seriously. He knew it though. He cheated on me right off the bat, wasn’t good at hiding it probably because he knew I’d put up with it. I did, because I was so into him but warned him not to do it again, full of piss and vinegar and thinking he just strayed. He did it again, I found out again we had a rip-roarin’ and he promised never to do it again. Which, in like a month he did. Three strikes, he was out.”

  Luke was still silent and since I was sharing (and still drunk) I didn’t notice that, even in his silence, he was communicating to me, communicating something that should have made me keep my mouth shut. He moved under me like he did in bed so that for a few seconds I was on top of him. Then he slid to his side so his back was to the room mine to the couch. Through all this, I kept blabbing.

  “Then there’s Dom, you know about him. Then there’s my sister Marilyn’s first husband, who was a slimeball cheat and a drunk. I think he might have slapped her around a bit but she would never say. I saw her once with a black eye and she said she fell down the stairs. A, they didn’t have stairs at their house and B, how do you get a black eye by falling down stairs?”

  Luke didn’t answer. I kept gabbing.

  “Then there’s Marilyn’s second husband who ma
de her first husband look like a choirboy. Total slimeball. I don’t like Marilyn ‘cause she’s kind of a bitch but I truly think she loved her first husband and it hurt when he fucked her over. She’s my sister, even though I don’t want to hurt, I hurt when she hurts. Do you know what I mean?”

  I didn’t wait for him to reply (not that he would have), I was on a roll so I just kept talking.

  “Then there’s Dad, you know all about that. He never came back, never called, never sent a card, nothing. Not when I turned sixteen, when I graduated from high school or college, nothing. Disappeared. Gone.”

  I realized belatedly where I was and what position I was in but I didn’t care, it was rather comfy really so I went on.

  “Noah was hot too, really handsome and I thought totally into me. He was super sweet, bought me flowers, shit like that. Acted like there was no other woman in the world but me. At first I wasn’t into him, after Dave, well, you can guess. But he worked at it hard, convinced me he was a good guy. I fell for it. All that time, he was planning on screwing me over. Not nice. He left, cleaning me out, and still I felt like a moron. Rat-bastard.”

  I sighed, searching my memory banks for more jerks to dredge up, found I was empty, looked Luke in the eyes and decided it was time to sum up.

  “So you see, men suck. They’re all jerks. I vowed never to get caught up with one again. Ever. Ever. Ever. That brings us to now. That’s why you and I can’t get together because I’m not going through that again. Once I help Sissy get revenge on Dominic Dickhead, no more men in my life, ever. And that’s also why you need to send me an invoice. I don’t mind paying, really. Noah didn’t get the inheritance money Aunt Ella gave me, I’m not loaded but I’m also not hurting –”

  “Babe,” Luke finally spoke.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You can shut up now.”

  I blinked then I thought maybe that was a good thing. “Okay,” I agreed then I asked, “So, are we square?”

  “You owed me triple, that was the first part, I’m gonna tell you the next part and I’m keepin’ one in reserve.”

  “What’s next?” I asked, thinking this was easy, in fact thinking that hadn’t been hard at all. I thought it would be but after six Fat Tires and two shots of tequila, it had been totally cool.

  Luke’s arms, which had been loosely holding me, tightened so I was pressed to him full frontal. He also threw his thigh over my legs. Normally, I would have seen this as the warning sign it was. After six Fat Tires and two shots of tequila, I missed it.

  Then he spoke. “The next part you pay is letting me cuff you naked to my bed and you stay that way while I eat you ‘til you come and then fuck you ‘til you come again.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed aloud, which was a feat considering the fact that my lungs had seized.

  He didn’t allow me to process his demand, he kept talking. “Not tonight, not when you’re shitfaced. I want you clearheaded when I do that to you. Tonight, after your rubdown, I’ll fuck you normally. Tonight, I want your hands and mouth on me.”

  It took me a few seconds to pull myself out of the complete and utter shock his brutally honest (and unbelievably sexy if my hard nipples had anything to say about it) words caused.

  Not to mention this was Luke Stark talking to me, Fatty, Fatty, Four-eyed Ava Barlow. It was so incomprehensible he would say such things I thought there was a good possibility that Satan had ordered a fur coat.

  “Didn’t you hear anything I just said?” I asked.

  “I heard it.”

  “No more men.”

  “I heard it.”

  “That includes you.”

  “Did you bring lotion with you?”

  I shook my head at what I thought was his strange question, tried to pull away and didn’t get anywhere. So, I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Rubdown.”

  “Luke, you aren’t rubbing me down.”

  His hands moved, one went up my back, his fingers sifting into my hair, one went down to rest on my bottom.

  “We could go straight to the sex,” his mouth came to mine but his eyes were open and watching me. I saw the warmth there, but there was something else, something I couldn’t put a finger on, something assessing. Before I could figure it out, he continued. “That will work out the kinks.”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

  “You’re sleeping beside me.”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

  “Then we’ll sleep here. And, if you want, we’ll fuck here too.”

  “Luke!” I yanked my body backward, found nothing but the very solid couch hampering any retreat and realized too late I was in a very dangerous position.

  “Ava, this is what’s gonna happen,” Luke said in a firm voice.

  Uh-oh.

  I can’t WAIT to see what he says next, Bad Ava was nearly drooling.

  Mm, Good Ava mumbled dreamily.

  “You’re gonna get your lotion and I’m gonna work out the stress in your back. Then together, were gonna work out the tension of the last couple of days. Tomorrow, or however long it takes, I’m gonna deal with Vincetti and Dexter. You want a shot at Dexter when I find him, your call. We’ll have him in a safe place where you can say, or do, whatever you want to him and I’ll be there if you need me when you do it. After that, you and I are gonna ride this out, see where it takes us. If you’re even close to the promise you gave me this morning or what you showed on the dance floor tonight, that’s gonna take awhile. We’ll see how it goes. Got that?”

  He had it all figured out and apparently he didn’t think I had a choice.

  Fuck that.

  I didn’t even try to count to ten I just pushed against him. “No, I do not have that. You can’t just pick up Noah and…” I stopped and glared at him. “What are you going to do when you pick up Noah?”

  “I’m gonna tell him who I am and what I am to you and then I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

  I quit pushing and stared. I would have said it was impossible for him to shock me further but there it was.

  “You can’t do that,” I whispered.

  “I can.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Ava, this isn’t up for discussion.”

  “I don’t even want you to do that.”

  “It isn’t for you to say. He took somethin’ that was mine, I’m gettin’ it back.”

  Oh… my… God.

  “You’re nuts!” I cried. “I’m not yours. I haven’t even seen you in five years.”

  “You’ve been mine since you were eight.”

  That cut right to the bone.

  Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

  To hide it, I shoved hard. He rocked back an inch and then moved forward and his arms got so tight, they crushed me to him.

  “I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s ever again!” I shouted in his face, getting pissed instead of scared because pissed was a whole lot better place to be. “And I’m not paying the second part of your deal. No way. No fucking way.”

  “All right, then you pay by telling me why you didn’t pick up my calls or see me after my father’s funeral. That was before all the shit went down with those fuckin’ guys takin’ you away, piece by piece. I wanna hear why you stood by my father’s grave and made me a promise and days later you reneged.”

  My mouth snapped shut and my body went statue still.

  Okay, then there was really, really, really no way I was going to tell him that. I was never going to tell him it embarrassed me that he held me when I was Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes. No way I was going to tell him that I lost weight, dyed my hair and got contacts because I’d been in love with him since I was eight (he wasn’t wrong about me being his but I wasn’t going to tell him that) and I wanted him to notice me.

  No way in hell.

  In fact, there was so no way in hell that I made a split-second, dangerous decision that would protect that knowledge forever.

  “I’ll get t
he lotion,” I told him.

  He stared at me a beat then pressed his lips together and tilted his chin up looking for patience then his eyes came back to me.

  “Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” he said.

  “Are we doing this or what?” I asked, sounding bitchy which was a relief considering I felt hysterical but I didn’t want Luke to know that.

  His arms went loose, I pushed up, scrambled over him, got to my feet and I shot to the bathroom like a rocket.

  Chapter Ten

  Mrs. Stark

  It was the dead of night when Luke moved me, arms around me, up and over him to his other side. He hooked my leg over his hip and I snuggled in.

  “You’re nuts,” I mumbled into his throat.

  Then I went back to sleep.

  * * * * *

  I woke up alone in Luke’s bed.

  I stared at the pillowcase, quiet, still, listening and at the same time assessing my situation. I heard the shower. I took a deep breath, rolled on my stomach, pulled Luke’s pillow into my belly and held it tight.

  Last night, I’d dodged the bullet. As I lay in Luke’s bed thinking back, I decided this was because I was on an adrenalin crash after Dom’s kidnapping, because I was drunk, but most especially because Luke gave really great rubdowns.

  I got the lotion, gave it to Luke, took off my glasses and lay down on my belly, all bitch attitude like a rubdown from Luke was akin to torture in an iron maiden. Just to be difficult, I kept on my tee and my panties (which, thank God, were mocha-colored satin hipsters with a load of beige lace and not ratty old ones that sagged at the ass). Luke pushed up the tee, up, up until I was forced to do a back arch and he whipped it over my head. He warmed the lotion in his hands and went to work on me.

  I wanted to stay tense, just to be contrary, but I couldn’t. His hands were strong and you could tell he had done this before (another thought I clung to, telling myself it proved he was a womanizing rat-bastard). He went right to the kinks and worked them out. This was not a sensual massage to get me turned on. He genuinely was trying to relieve my stress.

  When I wasn’t freaked out that I was lying, in my undies, in Lucas Stark’s bed (which was, at the beginning, my prevailing thought), I found this show of kindness disturbing but in a good way. I was trying very hard to hold on to thoughts of him being an ultra pushy, unbelievably blunt, tough guy, macho man and Sandra Whoever-She-Was crying into her M&Ms. But it was hard when underneath everything Luke did it seemed like he truly was a nice guy trying to protect me and keep me safe (but in an ultra pushy, unbelievably blunt, tough guy, macho man way).