Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (10 page)

“I don't want that either, especially since I ordered more than just pizza. We're going to have a serious feast in bed. And as far as talking, whenever you want. I can think of plenty of things to do besides talk when I think about you and bed.” He looked like he had more to say but stopped. “I'm going to grab the beer, unless you'd rather have wine?”

“Beer works for me,” she told him. “I should go upstairs, fix the bed so that there's room for the food.”

“Smart thinking, hon. I'll meet you up there.”

The food came quickly, too quickly for Gino's, but Drea figured Monroe had some pull with the man himself. She was glad that they didn't have to wait long; eating meant not talking. She was all for not talking while she let her mind clear as much as she could.

Through the meal, which consisted of pizza, garlic knots and mozzarella sticks, Drea tried to push her troubles to the back of her mind. She knew that if she didn't bring it up, he wouldn't push her to say anything. They could just go on with the rest of the night like nothing was wrong.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Monroe asked.

“I'm not so sure I can fit any dessert in after all I just had,” Drea answered. “Besides, I don't even know what it is.”

“Do you like funnel cake?”

“I don't know,” Drea admitted. “I've never tried it before.” He gave her a horrified look. “What?”

“How have you not had a funnel cake? Have you never been to a carnival or festival? Wait, you grew up in New Jersey, right? You never had one on the boardwalk?”

Drea reached for her beer and took a sip. “I've never been on a boardwalk.” He looked even more horrified. “Don't look at me like that! I know it's weird.”

“It makes me want to take you to a boardwalk, but since that's not realistic for right this moment, you're going to get your first taste of funnel cake.” He reached for the only container that they hadn't opened and held it out to her. “Go on, try it.” Drea took the container, opened it. There were sticks of fried dough inside. “You should dip it in the icing.”

One bite was all it took for Drea to realize she'd missed out on something delicious. “Oh!”

“Right?” Monroe grinned and got off of the bed. “You enjoy those, I'll run these downstairs.”

“Can you bring me up some water?”

“Not beer?”

“No more beer,” Drea said around a mouthful of fries.

“Save some of those for me. And make sure you save some of that icing, it gave me some ideas,” he said with a wink as he collected the nearly empty boxes and used plates on the bed.

Drea selected one more fry. “Fine, the rest is yours, including the icing.”

“Including you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I'll be right back to show you another use for that icing.”

Drea set the container of fries down on her nightstand and got up from the bed to shake out the comforter to get rid of any crumbs. She opened the closet door so she could check the mirror. Her reflection made her groan. Her hair was a mess, her eyes puffy and bloodshot,  and there was icing smeared along the side of her mouth. There was a packet of face wipes in her nightstand for nights when she couldn't be bothered to get up and wash her face properly. She removed the last traces of the icing, tossed the wipe, and ran her hands through her hair to tame it.

She heard Monroe coming back up the stairs as her phone rang. It was Frankie. Of course, it was Frankie because that was her luck. She sent the call directly to voicemail. Immediately, it began to ring again. Drea sent the call to voicemail again and switched the phone off.

“Everything okay, hon?”

“It was Frankie. Fucking Frankie,” Drea sighed.

“What's going on with Frankie?” Monroe walked over to where she was, stood in front of her and looked down at her.

“He's an asshole. I don't know if I ever mentioned that.”

“I knew he was an asshole the first time I saw him,” Monroe replied. “What's going on?”

“Frankie hated me when his father brought me home. The feeling became mutual pretty quickly. He was a sadistic little shit, never laid a hand on me, but fucked me up nonetheless. When we got older, we avoided each other the best that we could, which meant only seeing each other on holidays. I guess that he resented how close Uncle Tony and I were.” Resent was an understatement, but Drea didn't bother to go into that. “Things got really nasty between us when Uncle Tony got sick.”

“He was special to you,” he observed.

Drea nodded, tears once again biting at the back of her eyes. “He was perfectly healthy one day, and then he had a heart attack. After that, he was never the same.” Again, she didn't go into detail because it was too painful to think too much about. “When he died, we found out that he'd changed his will. He left me the lion's share. Frankie wasn't happy. We never spoke again until he showed up at my door asking about the porn business. Turns out, he'd gotten himself in a jam back home. He and his friend, Matt, borrowed money. They couldn't pay it back, and they knew the price.”

“Frankie came to you to bail him out.”

“If it was just him, or just him and Matt, I'd have kicked him out on his ass, but it wasn't. Matt's got a wife, my friend, and two kids. The lenders are not people with whom you fuck. Nothing is off limits once you've gone back on your word. So, I said that I'd help him pay the money back by reopening Gagliardi Productions. I wanted nothing to do with the day to day of it. I don't know what I was thinking letting him make any decisions. You heard about the warehouse, that was just the tip of it.”

“I'm sorry,” he said as he reached out for her hand.

“It's my own fault, I should have known better. Anyway, I took steps today that cut him out of anything to do with GP. I'm going to have to handle all the day to day if I've got any hope of turning enough profit to make the payments. I have to make the payments.”

“What if you don't?”

“If I don't, I'll wish that I had,” Drea said simply.

“How much are the payments?”

“One hundred thousand, monthly,” she admitted. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Fuck, hon. That's a shit load of money.” He frowned.

“Yes, it is. I figured that out already,” Drea said softly. “I know that you're thinking I'm stupid. Guess what? You're right. I am, but I couldn't just let my friend and those kids pay the price for the bad choices Frankie and Matt made. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.”

“So instead, you risk your life and help someone who tormented you as a child?”

“Yes,” Drea replied. “It's okay not to get it. I don't expect you to get it.” For the first time ever while hanging out with Monroe, she felt uncomfortable. “Excuse me a minute, I've got to use the ladies' room.” She started for the door without looking at him.

“Drea?” He called out.

“If you want to go, I get it. No hard feelings.” They were the hardest words she'd ever spoken. It was even harder to walk out the bedroom door, down the hall and into the bathroom. Drea shut the door behind her, leaned back against it and felt her shoulders shake. She took her time, washed her face and brushed her hair. The entire time, she listened for the sounds to indicate Monroe had taken her up on her offer and left. When she opened the bathroom door, the house was quiet, so quiet that she wondered if she hadn't heard him. Drea didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she pushed open the bedroom door and found him still there.

Monroe had taken off his jeans. He wore only boxers and his tee shirt. “Hope you don't mind that I got comfortable.”

“I don't mind,” she said, more than a little overwhelmed with relief since he was still there.

“Good. You should follow my lead, get comfortable. I'm sure you've got all sorts of pajamas since you sell them at the shop.”

“You're not going to say anything else about what I told you?”

“Not right now,” he answered. “I was thinking we could get in bed, get all comfortable and get some sleep. I'm tired.”

“Me too.” Drea was tired right down to her bones. She turned to her dresser, took out one of her favorite nightgowns. It wasn't overly sexy, but it was soft and felt great against her skin. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she took off her clothes and pulled the midnight blue material over her head.

“That color looks outstanding on you.” Monroe stripped his shirt off and tossed it to the floor near his boots.

“Thanks. This is one of my favorites.” Drea felt her nerves flutter again. She'd already had sex with Monroe, they'd slept in the same bed after, so this whole going to bed together thing shouldn't have been scary. Like ripping a bandage off, she stepped forward and pulled back the covers. “I like to sleep with a fan. Is that good with you, too?”

“Yet another thing we have in common,” he replied. “You want to flip the light off, too, so we don't have to get back up.”

Drea flipped the switch, plunged the room into darkness, and joined him on the bed. At first, she kept her distance, but he reached for her, pulled her close to him. The nerves died down, replaced by feeling of his body next to hers. She let her fingers move in random motions over his stomach and chest. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For listening to me,” she said sleepily. “This is nice.”

“I like it myself.” He reached out to smooth his hand over her hip. “If I didn't think that you'd fall asleep on me after the first time I made your toes curl, I'd show you.”

“I'm not that tired,” Drea replied immediately.

“Yeah, you are. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“Maybe I am a little tired.” She nuzzled her face against his chest.

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, hon. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Chapter Eight

Ricardo seemed to have developed some sort of nervous twitch in his left eye.

It was enough to distract Monroe from the words coming out of the man's mouth. It didn't really matter what he was saying since he'd already dropped his biggest bomb: Anzaldi didn't have the next payment in cash, but was willing to give them collateral, of their own choosing, until he had it. Monroe had the sinking feeling that things were going to get dicey with Anzaldi very soon.

It was hard to believe that the man had kept all his eggs in one basket; keeping all of his wealth in the safe which had been hit was just stupid. Stupid men didn't rise to positions of power. No one seemed to be happy about the offer, or the fact that Ricardo had simply strolled into the clubhouse during the middle of the day, uninvited once again. None of them had even been there when he'd arrived, only the pass-arounds. Claire had called Buster, who in turn had called the rest of them.

“Tell Anzaldi, we want a meeting with him. Face to face. No disrespect to you, Ricardo, but you're not the shot caller.” Buster's tone left no room for discussion. Ricardo didn't even try. Instead, he nodded stiffly and turned towards the door without another word.

“Well, he hates us now,” Train said once the door had shut behind the man.

“Let him,” Buster replied. “I can't be the only one who thinks that we're not getting the full story here.” He looked around the room, nodded his head. “We need to know what we don't know, and we need to know it now.”

Talk of what they knew or didn't know made Monroe remember his conversation with Drea the night before. It was more a monologue on her part than a conversation, actually. Every word she'd spoken had carried pain with it. She'd left things out, he knew she had, but he wouldn't mention it. He had more questions than he could count for her, but he hadn't asked them. Instead, he'd lain with her and held her while she'd slept deeply but restlessly. “I've got something,” he said. “It's not about Anzaldi.”

“Drea?” Buster asked, interest obvious in his eyes.

“Yeah, it's about Drea,” Monroe answered. He told them everything that she'd told him, unable to keep his anger out of his voice. “So, to sum up. Frankie's trouble.”

“Not our trouble,” Buster said quickly. “Not if he's got no part in GP anymore. How desperate would you say that Drea is to make these payments, Monroe? Desperate enough to go back to the old ways?”

“No,” he answered without any hesitation. Monroe didn't know how far she would go to get the money, but he was certain it wouldn't be that far. Someone who was willing to put their own neck on the line to protect a friend wasn't the sort of people who trafficked in humans. “I don't think we have to worry about that.”

“She mention who she's getting to finish the work at the warehouse?” Ace tapped his fingers against the table.

“No. She really didn't mention it,” Monroe told the table.

“You should tell her that Nightshade Construction can do it. Get us closer to her.” Bones suggested. “We are the best for the job, anyway. If we're building the place, we can keep an eye on things.”

Monroe shifted in his chair. “I can say we can do it. There's no way to know if she'll go for it.”

“Come on, Monroe. I'm sure that you can be convincing.” Einstein accompanied his words with a lewd hand gesture mimicking sex. “And if you're not up for the job, I'm sure that Caesar will be.”

“Enough,” Manuel said. Einstein fell silent. “I don't think trying to force it down her throat is a good idea. Might need a softer touch, let her think that it's her idea. Next time you see her, tell her we just lost a big job, the backing failed or some shit. It'll plant a seed. After that, say just enough to make her think that we need the work.”

“That's not a bad idea. She's a nice person, she'll want to help. Try it, Monroe. What's the worst that can happen? She says no? If she does, we'll find another way. Maybe we can get something on her computer, keep tabs that way,” Bones suggested.

“Alright,” Monroe agreed even though he felt uneasy at the idea. This was important to the club, the club was the most important thing to him, so he shouldn't have any reluctance when it came to doing what needed to be done. In any other circumstance, he wouldn't. Right now, all he could see in his mind was Drea as she thrashed and gasped in her sleep.

“Fantastic, get on it.” Buster told him.

“I need to head out to the Adams Street job,” Monroe told him, surprised that Buster would have forgotten the information. Usually, he remembered all of their schedules and jobs.

“No, you don't,” Buster corrected. “Bones, you can handle that, can't you?”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“See, Bones has it under control. Do what you need to do. Get us closer. We've got to be sure that she's not going to be an issue. Are you good with that?”

“I'm good.” Monroe shoved all his conflicted feelings down, reminded himself that even though he felt something with Drea, it didn't mean that things were going to work. The fact was, they probably wouldn't if his history was any indication. He'd felt something similar for Maggie, had been sure they'd end up together with a nice chunk of happily ever after to call their own. To say he'd been wrong about that was an understatement.

<#<#<#<#

The door to Love and Lace was locked. Monroe knew that Drea was inside, because her car was parked right out front. He knocked but no one answered and there was no one in the front room. Calling her made him feel a bit like a stalker, but she answered on the first ring. “Hey, I'm in front of the shop.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I was heading to a job, but it got cancelled, so I figured I'd swing by. See, there's this woman who I want to buy something sexy for,” Monroe told her.

“Oh, really? Well, she sounds like a very special woman. Give me a minute, I'm just finishing something and I'll be right out.”

“Take your time, I've got nowhere to be.” Monroe slid his phone back in his pocket. He leaned against the building and watched the traffic going past. A small SUV he recognized pulled up at the curb. Meg got out.

“Hey. What are you doing lurking outside of Drea's place?” She said as she approached.

“Waiting for Drea. She was just finishing something up,” he explained. “I'd ask what you were doing here but I think I'd probably rather not know.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “The boys have been asking about you. You'll need to come over for dinner soon. Oh, you should bring Drea. And speaking of Drea, here she comes.”

The door to Love and Lace opened. Drea stepped out along with another woman. There was something familiar about the blonde, but Monroe couldn't place her. He didn't pay much attention to her anyway. It was Drea who caught his eye. Once again, she was dressed up. Today in a red sleeveless dress covered with tiny black polka dots, black high-heeled shoes and a wide black belt around her waist. She'd put her hair up again, which he thought was a shame, since he really liked her hair down.

“Didn't meant to interrupt anything,” Monroe told her.

“Like I said, you didn't. I was just finishing up.” She took a step forward, stretched up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Come on inside, it's hot out here. I've been expecting you, Meg. I found a few things I think might work for you.”

Monroe ignored Meg's smug smile over the kiss and held the door open so that they could both walk inside. Once the door was closed, he let the cool air wash over his skin and looked around. There was something different about the shop; it took him a minute to realize that there were fewer displays than there had been the last time he was there.

“I was just telling Monroe that the two of you should come over for dinner one night soon. The boys have been missing him. He's great with them,” Meg explained. “He's also not that bad of a cook himself. He taught Leo how to made macaroni and cheese.”

Monroe realized, with some horror and amusement, that Meg was trying to play up his positives to Drea. There must be something in the female DNA that made them predisposed to matchmaking.

“That sounds great, Meg.”

“Hey, how about tonight? I know it's short notice, but we can grill out.”

“That's a lovely offer, but I can't tonight,” Drea answered. “I've got a lot of work to do tonight.”

“Some other time then,” Meg said without hesitation.

Monroe tuned out the rest of the conversation, looked through the racks that remained. If he was right, some of the bathing suit and swim cover-up racks were gone. Strange timing, considering that it was still hot at balls outside.

“See anything that you like?” Drea spoke from behind him.

“I see plenty I like.” Monroe turned to face her. “You look amazing today. I really like that dress.”

“Thanks. I had some meetings this morning, felt like I needed to not be in yoga pants and a tank top for them. How was your day?”

“Good. I handled the problem from this morning and now I've got the rest of the day. I figured we could do something but it looks like you've got a lot going on.”

“I do,” she said with a sigh. “I seriously underestimated how much there was for me to do. Frankie didn't do anything. I think all he wanted to do was meet the talent.”

“Talent?” Meg asked as she looked up from the rack with the things Drea had chosen. “Talent for what?”

“Nothing,” Monroe said quickly. Meg knew next to nothing about Nightshade business, and Monroe was sure that Train hadn't mentioned anything about the relaunch of Gagliardi Productions to her for all the obvious reasons.

“Doesn't seem like nothing. What's going on? And what's going on with the shop, Drea? Why is about half of your stock gone?” Meg looked between the two of them.

“I sold a bunch of stuff to a liquidation company,” Drea replied. “Love and Lace hasn't been doing the business I'd like it to, so I'm going to change things up.”

“Change things up how?” Meg looked between the two of them.

“I decided to reopen Gagliardi Productions,” Drea answered. “I know what you're thinking...”

“No, you really don't,” Meg replied.

Monroe recognized, and didn't like, the dark look in her eyes. It reminded him of the bad old days, the days when Meg was so beaten down that she didn't even smile. “Meg, listen to her.” He said even as he took out his phone to text Train.

“Meg, it's not going to be like it was before. I am not my father or Carlos.” Drea's voice shook. Monroe realized she probably hadn't thought about having to tell Meg she was in the porn business now. “It's going to be different.”

“You said that you destroyed the videos. You said that you hated the business and wanted nothing to do with it and now here we are.” Given her history with Gagliardi Productions, it was no surprise that she was upset. Monroe moved a step closer to her, but she shot him a look that suggested he stay back. “No. I suppose that selling porn pays better than running a shop like this.” Meg motioned around. “Good for you that you can just use most of the stuff in the back. Bet you don't have to sell that to a liquidator.”

“Those videos are destroyed. That's the truth. I'm going to make new ones. Like I said, it's going to be different. You know me, Meg. We're friends. I'm telling you, it's going to be different than it was.”

“We're not friends,” Meg said quickly.

“Meg,” Monroe started to speak but she held up her hand.

“Save it, Monroe. You're still welcome over for dinner whenever you'd like. I've got to go.”

Monroe hesitated, intending to go after her, but then his phone chirped. Train was on his way to the shop; he'd handle things himself. He turned his attention to Drea. “You okay, hon?”

“I never thought about having to tell Meg, or what it would bring up for her. Excuse me a minute,” she said as she started towards the back of the shop to where her office was. He followed her into the office. She turned to shut the door and jumped at the sight of him. “I said excuse me.”

“I heard you,” he replied. “Come here.”

“What?”

Monroe reached out and pulled her close to him. “This.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You've just got to give Meg some time, let her adjust.”

“She's right to be pissed. I didn't even think about this hurting her or what it must have brought up for her.” She rested her forehead against his chest. “I really like Meg.”

“I know you do, hon. I know.” He rubbed his hands over her back.

“I'm glad that you came by and not just for this. I wanted to talk to you.” She looked up at him. “Who do I talk to about getting Nightshade Construction to give me a quote for the warehouse job?”

“You can talk to me,” he replied. “I can take a look, work up a figure, if that's what you want.” He couldn't have been more surprised that she'd asked, but at the same time he was relieved.

“Good, that's one thing off of my list. It's a long list. I should get back to it.”

“You need a break, an hour. You'll rest for thirty minutes and then we'll go and get you something to eat to power you through the rest of the day.”

“Rest where?”

“Right here, right on that couch. And for the record, that's the ugliest couch that I've ever seen.” Monroe had never seen a couch that particular shade of orange. Whoever had chosen to decorate that orange with large flowers had obviously been on some sort of drug at the time.