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  Seriously, if there was an f-word moment in my life, this was it.

  “Jet, let Eddie take you to the hospital,” Lottie said.

  It was all hitting me, delayed reaction.

  “He thought he could gamble himself into the big time and we’d all ‘live large’. What kind of stupid, fucking moron is he?” I asked her.

  “Jet, get to the hospital,” Lottie repeated.

  “I’ve been working since I was fourteen fucking years old and he gambled away every fucking dollar I ever gave him. What a fucking dick!”

  To punctuate my point, I brought my hand down on the window ledge and then shouted, “Ow!” mainly because it hurt.

  I looked at Eddie. “I hurt my hand,” I informed him unnecessarily.

  His dimple appeared first, then his lips formed a grin.

  “Maybe we’ll get the doctors to look at it after they check the bullet wound to your head.”

  I blinked at him, then nodded, “That’s a good idea.”

  “You gonna move your leg now?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I answered, the soul of amenity and then I moved my leg.

  He slammed the door and walked around the front of the truck.

  Everyone was gathered at the side. Mostly they looked shell-shocked. Except Daisy, she looked pissed, right the hell, off. And not Lee and his boys, I noticed they were all trying to hide grins.

  Eddie got in and started the truck.

  To let them know everything was all right, I flashed a smile and gave a jaunty wave as Eddie pulled away.

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t until a lot later that I saw (regardless of the fact that it was just a graze) the amount of blood that had leaked down my face. I was sitting on the end of a bed in the emergency room at Denver Health and the nurse was cleaning me up.

  “That’s a lot of blood,” I remarked, staring clinically at the towel she was using as if it was someone else’s blood.

  “Head wounds bleed,” she said in battle weary tones; the voice of experience.

  That’s all I heard because it was then that I fainted.

  Eddie was sitting by the bed when I woke up.

  “Hey there, Cariña,” he whispered.

  “Don’t tell anyone I fainted,” I whispered back.

  His eyes smiled even though his lips didn’t.

  “They must have thought I was a lunatic, ranting about Dad with blood running down my face.”

  “I don’t expect they thought much of anything except bein’ glad you were alive to rant.”

  I figured he was right.

  He helped me sit up and then took off to go to the waiting room to tell everyone I was okay while I filled out forms (I was praying, since I was on an unplanned, unscheduled vacation, that Smithie still had me insured… told you he took care of his girls, probably no other strip joint had good insurance).

  Then Eddie came back.

  “You should know, someone told Duke and Tex and they were both out there. Your Mom too. I told ‘em you were fine, I’d take care of you and sent them home. You can talk to them tomorrow.”

  I pushed back the alarm of Mom knowing I’d been grazed by a bullet and focused on feeling grateful. Grateful I had friends who would sit around in the waiting room of a hospital to hear news of a graze and grateful that Eddie took care of them so I didn’t have to. Because I was grateful, I found his hand and I gave it a squeeze. He one-upped my squeeze by bringing my fingers up and brushing his lips against my knuckles.

  The gesture was so intimate, my belly curled and the oxygen burned in my lungs.

  It was then, Detective Marker arrived.

  Eddie stood with me while Detective Marker talked to me, again.

  The only good news Jimmy Marker gave me was that Shirleen was okay. She sustained a blow to the head. She was taken to Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Hospital and admitted for observation only, a minor concussion.

  “Do you know where Dad is?” I asked Detective Marker.

  He looked at me.

  “Usually that’s my line,” he returned, trying to joke.

  I stared at him.

  He sighed, looked at Eddie, then back at me.

  “We got witnesses who say he was taken by Slick, he was alive but looked injured. No word, no sign. We’re lookin’ and we’ll keep lookin’,” he promised me.

  I felt his words slice through me like a knife.

  Eddie’s hand went into my hair and, very gently, he pressed the uninjured side of my head against him.

  “I’m okay,” I lied, looking up at him.

  He looked down.

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  That got him a grin.

  * * * * *

  He took me to his place, helped me undress and stepped into the shower with me. He turned me away from the spray and used the showerhead on me, and, careful to avoid the dressing at my temple, he shampooed the blood out of my hair. We patted ourselves dry, I combed out my hair and Eddie put me to bed naked and held me tight.

  After awhile, his warmth seeped into me and I started to feel safe again.

  “I’m worried about Dad,” I whispered as if I was admitting to a grave sin. “I know I shouldn’t be but I am.”

  “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice gentle and, I swear, maybe even a little bit affectionate (or maybe even a lot).

  I lay there awhile, suddenly feeling even warmer.

  “Eddie?”

  “Sí, mi amor?”

  “I’ve got to tell you something and you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

  He was silent.

  “Promise?”

  He sighed. “You’re killin’ me,” he muttered.

  I pressed into him. “You have to promise.”

  “I promise.”

  He may have promised but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

  I told him what happened, in detail, with Vince and Mace. He listened without making a single noise but his body got more and more tense.

  Then I told him about the kiss and he went totally still.

  “It was just… not what you think… it was, I don’t even know what it was. Mace told me not to say anything but—”

  Eddie interrupted me.

  “Mace’s sister was murdered while Mace was forced to watch. Got her head blown off. Shot to the temple.”

  It was my turn to go totally still while I felt my blood run cold.

  Eddie went on, “Probably not fun to relive and probably worth a kiss from you when the ending was different.”

  I couldn’t help it, it was the flashbacks that kept entering my head, it was the ugly knowledge of why Mace was pissed off all the time, I burst into tears.

  Eddie stroked my back and spoke softly to me in Spanish until, finally, I stopped crying and the adrenalin subsided. I started to get drowsy and snuggled deeper into him.

  Right before I fell asleep, he said quietly, “Tomorrow, we need to have a chat.”

  “I thought we were chatting,” I mumbled, half-asleep.

  “This isn’t a lyin’-in-bed-naked-after-getting-a-gunshot-wound-to-the-head kind of chat. This is a wide-awake-and-listen-to-Eddie kind of chat.”

  Dear Lord.

  Not another one of those.

  I suppose if I could survive being held at gunpoint, I could survive a listen-to-Eddie chat.

  On that thought, I fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The G-word Turns into the W-word

  (Um...Eek!)

  The alarm went off, Eddie touched a button and rolled into me.

  I tensed, waiting for him to throw back the covers and drag me out of bed.

  Instead he pulled my back to his front and asked softly, “How’s your head?”

  I did a full-body scan. My knees hurt, my head hurt and my entire body felt stiff. On the other hand, I was breathing and not locked in a scary, sideways refrigerator at the morgue so I figured I was feeling pretty good.

  In answer I sai
d, “I cannot believe I have to get shot for you to hit the snooze button.”

  His body went still.

  “Can we make a deal?” he asked, his voice still quiet.

  I wasn’t awake enough to make a deal with Eddie but was also not feeling like arguing.

  “Maybe,” I said, thinking that was a good compromise.

  “The deal is that was the last joke we’ll make about you gettin’ shot.”

  My breath caught and I held it.

  His lips came to my neck.

  “Deal?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I agreed on a big exhale.

  I had to admit, his words and the meaning behind them shook me straight to my soul. I didn’t have time to focus on my shaken soul, Eddie’s lips started roaming, gliding up my shoulder.

  “Are we going to take a shower?” I asked.

  He carefully turned me around so we were face to face and his hands slid down my back to my bottom. I tilted my head up to look at him and his eyes were on my temple.

  “I figure it’s best we do this lyin’ down.”

  I nodded, because he was probably right. I’d survived a shooting, I didn’t need to die a tragic death while being given an orgasm in the shower.

  Then he kissed me and I wasn’t thinking about tragic anything.

  Then he made love to me.

  It wasn’t hot, fast or rough like it seemed both Eddie and I liked it.

  It was about a slow burn; it was gentle and it was sweet. It was so slow, gentle and sweet that, in the end, it garnered an “ohmigod, ohmigod” neck arching orgasm, which was good since after, my body didn’t feel stiff anymore.

  * * * * *

  “We’re going to be late for work,” I said to Eddie’s throat when we were done and I was lying in his arms. His arms got tighter indicating we weren’t going anywhere.

  “Indy doesn’t care when you show up and everyone knows my girlfriend got shot last night. I don’t think they’ll be expecting us first thing.”

  There it was again, the g-word.

  “Everyone knows?” What I meant was, everyone knew I was his… g-word.

  “Cops talk. You’ve been the main topic of conversation since I got pulled in after the bachelor party brawl.”

  Oh… dear… Lord.

  I went up on my elbow, he rolled to his back and I looked down on him.

  “What do you mean, pulled in after the bachelor party brawl?”

  He was wearing his satisfied look and my belly curled. He tucked my hair behind my ear and then cupped my jaw, running his thumb across my bottom lip.

  My belly curl turned into a twist.

  “They’re not exactly gonna give me a commendation for starting a fight and breakin’ some guy’s nose a few days before his wedding.”

  I blinked, then I stared.

  “You got in trouble?”

  “Relax Chiquita,” he grinned and pulled me down to him, “nothing came of it. The groom wasn’t fired up to tell his bride he’d got his nose broke because he put his hand down the shirt of a cocktail waitress at a strip joint. And Smithie didn’t push it, likely because of you.”

  I thought about Bachelor Number One, or The Bachelor, getting married with a big old swollen nose. That would be a serious bummer for the wedding photos.

  I had to admit, I liked the thought, mainly because he was a jerk, even if I felt sorry for his bride (for a variety of reasons).

  I couldn’t help it, a wedding photo appeared in my head and it made me smile. As my face was against Eddie’s chest, he felt it and kissed the top of my head.

  Then I lost my smile as my thoughts drifted.

  Eddie got into trouble at work for me. Eddie also paid for my car, which had to cost at least a thousand bucks, not to mention the coffee maker. Eddie was a cop. I figured cops probably did all right, money-wise, say, in comparison to bums like my Dad. They weren’t known to be bazillionaires. And, last night, Eddie was supposed to be somewhere where something was “going down” but instead he was at the hospital with me.

  Seriously, this could not go on.

  I figured it was time to have a Jet Chat.

  “Eddie?” I started.

  “Shit, I thought I had your ‘Eddies’ down but that sounds like a new one,” he teased.

  I ignored him.

  “I thought you had something going on last night.”

  “I did.”

  “Did it ‘go down’?” I asked.

  His hand slid up my back and started to play with my hair.

  “Heard the call go over the radio, Indy’s got her own code, which shouldn’t surprise you. I knew you were with her so I blew out.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “I am a pain in the ass,” I whispered.

  He pulled gently on my hair and I looked up at him. He had his chin dipped, looking down at me. His face was mellow yet serious. It was a new look and, just like any of his looks, I liked it.

  “I was on a stake out, nothin’ was happening, it was becoming clear nothin’ was gonna happen and it was boring as hell. Although I would rather have come home to you jazzed like you were the other night, you didn’t interrupt anything.”

  Well, that was a relief.

  I decided to hit on topic number two. I didn’t know how to broach it so I decided just to be direct. “You have to quit spending money on me.”

  He rolled me over to my back, his body mostly on me.

  “Chiquita…”

  “No, really. I know you want me indebted to you but it’s getting ridiculous. The car was too much, the coffee maker…”

  He started laughing. Not out and out but his body was moving with it.

  I wasn’t sure what was so damn hilarious. According to Daisy, coffee makers were pretty serious and Daisy knew just about everything.

  “What’s funny?” I asked, “No, wait. I’ll tell you what’s not funny and this is not funny. I’m being serious.”

  “You really have a problem with that coffee maker, don’t you?” Eddie asked.

  “Eddie—”

  “Cállate, mi amor.” he said and there it was again. I could hear affection in his voice. I wasn’t ready for amused affection, not when we were discussing something as important as coffee makers.

  “Don’t tell me to shut up,” I said to him.

  His knuckles ran down my jaw and he looked into my eyes; his were still full of laughter. “I know you work hard for your money. But you should know that it means more to you than it probably means to me.”

  “Money means a lot to everyone and I know you aren’t rolling in it so you have to stop blowing it on me.”

  The laughter died out of his eyes.

  I had, of course, in the throes of performing my Jet Chat, forgotten that Eddie was a Mexican-American man and they tended to be both proud and macho and I’d just stepped all over both of those.

  Still, I didn’t care. This was going a lot further and a lot faster than made me comfortable. In fact, this happening at all made me uncomfortable. I had to set the brakes, pronto.

  “We’re not talking about this, Chiquita,” he said to me.

  “Yes we are,” I shot back.

  His eyes started to get a little glittery.

  “Okay then, we are,” he said.

  Uh-oh.

  I didn’t think I had control of the Jet Chat anymore.

  “Time for our chat,” he announced.

  I was right, I didn’t have control of the Jet Chat anymore. The Jet Chat had just taken a scary turn down the road leading straight to the Eddie Chat.

  Damn.

  “I think I need coffee before our chat,” I said hoping to buy time.

  “After. We’re gonna get a few things straight, you and me.”

  Damn, shit, fuck and hell.

  I wasn’t doing very well with things crooked between Eddie and me. I really didn’t want things straight. I didn’t know for certain how I wanted things. What I did know was how I didn’t want them and that was Relationship Overdriv
e while the rest of my life was chaos.

  “Eddie…”

  “I know the meaning of that ‘Eddie’,” he said, “and you can save it. You’re not getting out of this.”

  Exactly how did he have me so figured out?

  I gave up and glared at him.

  He ignored The Glare.

  “See, even with bullets flyin’, I’ve had the chance to get to know you. Call me crazy but I’d like to do it better.”

  My glare deepened.

  He continued to ignore it.

  “That said, bullets are flyin’, one nearly blew your pretty face off last night, so, I gotta tell you, I’d like it a fuck of a lot more if you saw your next birthday. The way I see it, that gives you two choices. First choice, you cool it with this ‘get control of my life’ business and let me keep you safe, which means you do what I say and you don’t go out on the town with your gang in high heels. Second choice, you go your own way. You do that, I have Lee pick you up and put you in his safe room until I sort this shit out. If that means we’re over, I’m willin’ to take that chance, knowin’ after it’s done you’ll be somewhere alive and breathing even if you’re doin’ it in someone else’s bed.”

  I gasped through The Glare and said, “Eddie…”

  “No ‘Eddie’. You choose, right now, door number one or door number two, no discussion.”

  Really.

  I did not think so. He was not going to lie there and give me an ultimatum.

  I pushed him off, sat up, taking the sheet with me, and turned to him but he sat up too so I lost my leverage.

  So be it, I was used to no leverage.

  “There’s always room for discussion,” I told him.

  “Not this time,” he returned.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and then said something immensely stupid. Do not ask me why, I just did. Maybe it was my newfound attitude; I didn’t have it under control just yet, it leaked out willy-nilly at the worst possible times.

  (In my defence, Eddie was being kind of bossy.)

  “Door number three is I do what I want and get Daisy to help me avoid you while I’m doing it. And door number four is turn tail and run, escaping it all by talking Mace into helping me and Mom disappear in Mexico like he said last night.”

  Eddie’s eyes were no longer a little glittery, they were full-on glittery.

  “I’m sorry?”

  Um… maybe it was time to put away the attitude and keep my mouth shut.