Rock Chick Revenge Page 17

  “Stop it,” I hissed.

  “What?” he grinned.

  “She’s going to think we’re together.”

  “We are together.”

  “We’re not.”

  “We are.”

  I made a noise in the back of my throat and leaned into him so I was close (or, I should say, closer).

  “When she comes back, I’ll go to the bathroom and you tell her this isn’t what it seems.”

  “And what should I tell her it is?”

  “That I’ve got some troubles, you’re helping me sort them out and I’m staying at your place until it’s sorted. That’s it, nothing more.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not gonna do that.”

  “Why?” I cried.

  “First, because she’ll worry if she thinks you’re in trouble. Second, because she’ll wonder what you’re still doin’ at my place when it’s all over. Third, because that would be a lie because that’s not all it is, it’s a fuckuva lot more.”

  My heart did a stutter and I ignored it. “It isn’t.”

  His hand came to the back of my neck. “I’m not sparrin’ with you about this Ava.”

  “You aren’t being very nice to your mother. She actually likes the idea that we’re together. You let her go on thinking we are, when we aren’t, it’s just mean.”

  I should (again) have realized what it meant when his hand came to the back of my neck. I should have read the warning sign. I didn’t.

  It was when his eyes got shiny dangerous, I read the warning sign. Too late.

  “Tell me, after what happened in my bed this morning, how you figure we’re not together?”

  “That was nothing. I was asleep,” I lied. “You took me off guard.”

  Uh-oh.

  His hand tightened on my neck and brought me even closer so we were ultra close closer.

  “You’re too fuckin’ much. Throughout breakfast you’ve been decidin’ how to lie to me, and yourself, about what happened. That same time I’ve been strugglin’ with the urge to walk away from my mother, drag you back to my bed, rip your fuckin’ clothes off and bury myself so deep inside you, you feel me in your throat.”

  Ho-ly shit.

  Did Luke just say that to me?

  He did.

  “Luke –”

  “Save it,” he clipped. “I figure next time you’re ridin’ my hand is the next time I’ll get the truth out of you. I don’t trust a goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth but your body, that I trust.”

  There they were again, the words “next time”.

  Shit.

  “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I snapped.

  “Believe it,” he bit off.

  “You’re way too blunt.”

  “Deal with it.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  His fingers went tighter on my neck. “Ava, one more word –”

  I opened my mouth to give him one more word. He kissed me.

  It started as a hard, angry, shut Ava up kiss but then his tongue slid inside my mouth and it ended up as an Ava holding onto Luke’s shoulders for dear life kissing him back kiss.

  “Children,” Mrs. Stark whispered and my whole body jerked as my head whipped around to see Mrs. Stark sitting across from us, her lips tilted up in a mini-smile. “The other patrons can see you,” she warned us, but you could tell she didn’t care not even a little bit.

  I was so screwed.

  Luke and Mrs. Stark fought over who was going to pay (Luke won). We got back in the Range Rover, went back to Luke’s loft and Mrs. Stark came up to the loft with us.

  His loft, I might add, magically now had a black lacquered desk in the corner with my computer and two of my wicker baskets filled with work files sitting beside it.

  I made a (somewhat desperate) demand that she stay for a cup of coffee (Luke shook his head at this, totally knowing my game). She agreed happily. I made a full pot and she and I drank and chatted while we both cleaned Luke’s kitchen. Through this, Luke made a number of phone calls while I tried to ignore him. Then we sat on barstools and kept chatting.

  Then she cried. “Oh, look at the time!” and I felt my stomach pitch because it was then I knew I was seriously screwed.

  “We’re auctioning a homemade quilt at the church. I’m supposed to sell iced tea and cookies. I’m going to be late.” She was flying around in a dither, grabbing at her purse and rinsing her cup to put in the dishwasher.

  She came to me and touched my cheek. “Ava, so lovely to see you,” she said softy.

  Then Luke walked her to the elevator doors, they slid open, his arms moved around her and he bent to kiss her cheek as I watched feeling, I had to admit, something warm spreading inside me as I did so.

  Luke had never been close to his Dad but he’d always been close to his Mom.

  How Mr. and Mrs. Stark ever got together was beyond me. He was a macho man, like his son. She was Mrs. Cleaver. Why he and Luke didn’t get on, I never asked and I didn’t know. Maybe too much alike or maybe Mr. Stark knew his son would be more than him and he didn’t like it. Mrs. Stark must have felt like she was living in the depths of hell and it was a testimony to her quiet strength that she’d not only made it to the other side, she was auctioning quilts.

  I was so caught up in these thoughts, just like the screaming dork I was, that I didn’t realize I should have either thrown myself out the window or locked myself in the bathroom.

  Again, I was too late.

  The elevator doors closed and Luke and I were alone. He turned to me.

  Eek.

  I made a dash toward the bathroom. He caught me around the waist, swung me up in his arms and walked toward the bed.

  “Luke, put me down,” I yelled, legs kicking and arms pushing.

  He did. He threw me on the bed. I rolled and scrambled. He caught my ankle, yanked me back and then pinned me with his body.

  “Get off me,” I shouted.

  “This latest bullshit maneuver bought you punishment.”

  Oh crap.

  Considering “payment” meant me handcuffed naked to the bed while he had his wicked way with me, I wanted no part in “punishment”. Hell, I wanted no part in “payment” (although I found the idea intriguing).

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Get off.”

  He stared at me, his eyes weren’t shiny dangerous, they were something else far more scary.

  “I knew I was gonna enjoy this but it just keeps gettin’ better and better.”

  “Get off,” I repeated.

  He shook his head but said, “I gotta go out. Talk to Vance and Ike about what’s happening with Vincetti and Dexter. Then Lee and I scheduled a meet with Vito. When I get home, we’ll see to your payment and your punishment.”

  I blinked at him, not processing his last words as I was stuck on an earlier one. “Vito?”

  “Vito Zano, Vincetti’s uncle and his boss. The guy who had you kidnapped.”

  Vito Zano?

  Uncle Vito Zano?

  Uncle Vito had me kidnapped?

  “Uncle Vito?” I asked.

  Luke stared at me.

  “Oh my God,” I put my hands to my face then took them away and smiled at Luke. “This is great.”

  Luke kept staring but he was now doing it in a way like he thought maybe I’d slid over the deep end.

  “Uncle Vito loves me,” I told Luke. “He’s hilarious. We’re always partners during euchre games after Thanksgiving dinner. We kick ass. I didn’t know it was Uncle Vito who kidnapped me. No wonder his henchman said he knew me.”

  “Ava.”

  “This is good news, Luke,” I swiped my hand on my forehead. “Shoo.”

  “Ava, Vito Zano is not a good guy,” Luke told me.

  “Maybe not, but he’d never hurt me. He loves me and he really loves Sissy. He was always saying to me he had wished Sissy had married his other nephew, Ren. Ren is a good guy and he’s even more hot than Dom.”

  Luke�
��s face grew dark. “Ren Zano isn’t a good guy either. And Vito would torture his grandmother if he felt it served a purpose.”

  “Oh, Luke, seriously.”

  “Seriously.”

  “I’ve played euchre with the man. Have you played euchre with the man?”

  “No, I’ve been in a vacant warehouse staring at two men with bullet holes in their foreheads. Hits ordered by Vito.”

  I stopped smiling.

  He watched the smile fade and his eyes moved to mine. “Shit,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing, you playin’ euchre with Vito Zano on Thanksgiving or thinkin’ Lorenzo Zano is ‘more hot’ than Dominic Vincetti.”

  “Dom’s a mean, cheating, scum-of-the-earth, rat-bastard but that doesn’t stop him from being hot.”

  Luke stared at me a beat then dropped to his side, taking me with him, all the while saying, “And you think I’m nuts?”

  “You are nuts.”

  His hands slid up my back and his chin tipped down to look at me. “I’m goin’ out. Do I have to cuff you to the bed?”

  “No!” I pulled back but his arms went tighter. “I’ve got a shed load of work to do and with all this nonsense, I’m way behind. You cuff me to the bed, I’ll miss a deadline and lose a client.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “Can I trust you not to do anything stupid?”

  “Of course.”

  Without hesitation, he asked, “Can I trust you not to lie to me about not doin’ anything stupid?”

  “Luke!”

  His hand went into my hair, his head slanted and he kissed me, hot and deep. Then he did it again, hotter and deeper. When I’d pulled his tee out of his cargos and was running my hands up the muscles of his back and pressing myself full frontal into him, his lips detached.

  I stared at him in a total and complete Luke Lip Fog.

  “That’s how I like it,” he muttered against my mouth, moved up to kiss my nose then he was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  That Didn’t Go Too Good

  After Luke left, I had, what I found out much later, was a very stupid idea.

  After that, I had what Luke would consider a very stupid idea (if he knew about it, which I was not about to tell him). I had to admit, the way it turned out, if he had known about it and given me his opinion, he would have been right.

  * * * * *

  See, I figured if I took care of myself then I wouldn’t get so hot and bothered all the time when Luke kissed me. I hadn’t had an orgasm in awhile and I thought if I had one then no way would Luke affect me so much. I’d be oblivious, unmoved and I could resist him.

  Not to mention, after Luke’s wakeup call and his recent kiss, I was way turned on.

  So I lay in his bed and waited for awhile to make certain he wouldn’t come back. Then I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and slid my hand inside.

  What I did not know was that’s when, not far away, a guy named Jack, sitting in the surveillance room at Nightingale Investigations leaned forward and flipped off the switch that activated the cameras in Luke’s loft that Luke just called him and told him to switch on.

  * * * * *

  As I mentioned, it had been awhile (and it was helped by the fact that I was in Luke’s bed) so my self-gratification didn’t take long to achieve.

  After as I was lying in bed, pleased with myself (very pleased), a thought came to me. A way out of this mess.

  Uncle Vito.

  If I got to Uncle Vito first, before Luke, taking Sissy with me, and told him what was happening with Dom, he’d deal with it. He’d even probably help Sissy out in the divorce. He was Italian, he was Catholic but he also thought Dom was a dickhead (like everybody else). And since he loved both Sissy and me, if we double-teamed him we couldn’t go wrong.

  That way I wouldn’t owe Luke and I could move out of his house. All my problems solved!

  I don’t think this is a good idea, Good Ava commented, wringing her hands.

  I think it’s a GREAT idea, call Sissy right now, Bad Ava yelled, jumping up and down with excitement.

  I called Sissy.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Yo. Listen, you know who kidnapped me?”

  “Mister Zano,” she answered.

  “Vito Zano,” I said.

  “Uncle Vito?” she sounded shocked as if there were five thousand “Mr. Zanos” in Denver. However, I didn’t blame her, I would have been shocked too if at the time I knew Uncle Vito kidnapped me, he loved me. “Who told you that?” she asked.

  “Luke.”

  “I don’t believe it. Uncle Vito wouldn’t kidnap you, he loves you.”

  See!

  “I have a plan,” I said then I told her the plan.

  “I’m in,” she agreed immediately, as bestest best friends do.

  “We have to hurry, we have to get there before he meets with Luke.”

  “Come get me. I’ll be ready.”

  * * * * *

  I was in the Range Rover just blowing out of Luke’s parking garage when my phone rang.

  It said “Shirleen Calling”.

  I flipped it open and put it to my ear. “Yo.”

  “Yo mama. I called this morning early ‘cause I know these boys like their mornin’ piece of ass. You didn’t answer. Please tell me you didn’t lose me another fifty bucks,” Shirleen said.

  “I didn’t.”

  “All right, girl,” she sounded pleased. “You got to hold out until tomorrow then you and Luke can do the nasty. It has to be tomorrow.”

  “Shirleen, Luke and I are never going to do the nasty.”

  “Unh-hunh.” Now she sounded like she didn’t believe me.

  I rolled my eyes and came to a stop at a red light.

  “He there now?” she asked.

  “No, I’m on my way to pick up Sissy.”

  “He let you out?” Now she sounded surprised.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh Lord.” Now she sounded worried. “What’re you and Sissy plannin’ to do? Daisy’s over and we’re gonna watch a Days of Our Lives marathon. Now that I got a day job, I got to Tivo Days of Our Lives. I watch the whole week solid every Sunday afternoon. It’s a ritual. You and Sissy could come over, we got popcorn.”

  “Sissy and I are going to talk to Vito Zano.”

  Silence.

  “Shirleen?”

  “Girl, why in the hell are you and Sissy goin’ to talk to Vito Zano?” Now she sounded kind of mad.

  “He’s Dom’s uncle. Sissy and I both know him. We’re going to ask him to help us out. He loves us. He’s Uncle Vito.”

  “Uncle Vito my ass. Are you crazy?” Now she sounded like she thought I was crazy.

  “Relax, Shirleen, I have it all figured out.”

  “Shee-it, girl. You’re cracked,” she took the phone away from her ear and I heard her talking to Daisy then I heard Daisy screech. “Is she crazy?”

  Jeez.

  Shirleen came back to me. “Tell me what chance I got of talkin’ you out of this fool idea.”

  “Zip,” I informed her.

  “Tell me where Sissy’s stayin’. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Shirleen, there’s no need.”

  “There’s a need, there’s so much of a need, I’m missin’ my Days of Our Lives ritual. Tell me the address.”

  “Shirleen –”

  “Tell me.” Now she sounded like she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  I told her.

  * * * * *

  Sissy, Shirleen, Daisy and I rolled up to Uncle Vito’s house in Englewood.

  He lived in what looked like your normal, average, everyday house in a normal, average, everyday neighborhood. It wasn’t until you got inside and saw the Picasso scribble framed on the wall and swam in his indoor pool off the back room that you found out he was loaded.

  We all trooped up to the house and knocked on the door. Uncle Vito’s wife, Aunt Angela, opened the door.

  “Sissy! Ava! What a w
onderful surprise!” She cried and gave us big hugs.

  Uncle Vito was nearly bald, very round and about an inch taller than me. Aunt Angela was slim, trim, stylish and disappeared once a year to a “spa” where she came out looking five years younger. Her forehead never moved. Botox city.

  Still, she was sweet.

  “Aunt Angela, these are our friends Daisy and Shirleen,” Sissy introduced as we walked into the foyer and Angela greeted Daisy and Shirleen. She was such a premier hostess, she seemed not to have any reaction at all to Daisy and Shirleen. Not that there was any reaction to be had about them, except Daisy was wearing skintight faded jeans with silver rivets up the sides, pink platform boots and a baby blue v-necked shirt that showed so much cleavage, most mothers would cover their children’s eyes at the sight of her.

  Then again we found out quickly that Aunt Angela knew Daisy, they moved in the same social circles. They gave each other cheek kisses that came nowhere near the cheek.

  “Come in, come in. Can I get you coffee? I have some cannoli from Pasquini’s.”

  “That sounds good,” Shirleen said.

  I gave Shirleen a look and then turned back to Aunt Angela.

  “Sorry, Aunt Angela. We’re here to see Uncle Vito, it’s important.”

  She looked at me and said, “Vito’s just about to head out to a meeting.”

  No!

  My gaze swung to Sissy, screaming, mutely, do something!

  Sissy to the rescue. “We have to see him before he goes. It’s important,” Sissy told her then her voice lowered. “It’s about Dom.”

  Aunt Angela’s mouth got tight as she looked at Sissy. Angela also thought Dom was a dickhead.

  Angela made a decision and said, “Come through to the family room. I’ll get Vito.” She led us to the family room and then hot-footed it out.

  “I don’t see why we couldn’t have a cannoli and a coffee while we’re waitin’,” Shirleen groused.

  “We don’t have time,” I told her.

  “Have you ever had a cannoli from Pasquini’s? There’s always time for a cannoli from Pasquini’s.”

  In my fatty, fatty four-eyed days I’d practically lived at Pasquini’s. I’d had more cannolis, chocolate candles, napoleons and profiteroles at Pasquini’s than the entire population of Denver.

  I decided not to answer. Luckily, I didn’t have to, Uncle Vito walked in.