Rock Chick 07 Regret (65 page)

Their heads came up and they stared at me.

Then Tom broke away from the rest and came at me muttering, “Christ Jesus.”

Before I knew it, he had me in his arms.

“Christ. Jesus. Jesus Christ,” he whispered over my head.

So lightning wouldn’t strike him for taking the Lord’s name in vain (repeatedly), I said into his chest, “I’m okay. It was my father. He had one of his men kidnap me. He didn’t hurt me. My father just wanted to talk.”

Tom leaned back and looked at me. “We know it was Jerry. Daisy recognized him. We just didn’t know what your father had planned.”

I saw the relief written all over his face and, even though it was unhappy circumstances that gave him that look, for some reason somewhere deep it made me happy. So happy, I slid my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek against his chest and hugged him.

I don’t remember hugging anyone like that of my own accord (and not in the middle of a major flip out) since my Mom was killed.

“I’m okay,” I repeated.

He hugged me back. “Thinkin’ about givin’ up Mexican food, girl. At least until we know you’re safe. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I pulled away and looked up at him.

“That’s sayin’ a lot, Tom likes his Mexican food,” Monty called from his spot by the desk.

“I wouldn’t want you to give up something you liked,” I told Tom.

He smiled at me as Malcolm asked Mace, “Someone call Hector?”

“Shirleen,” Mace replied.

“The girls?” Tom asked.

“Shirleen,” Mace repeated.

“Prepare for a Rock Chick invasion,” Monty muttered.

I looked at Monty then at Mace finally at Malcolm and Tom.

“I’m sorry to worry you, I –”

Malcolm cut me off, “Didn’t hear Kitty Sue, Indy or Ally say you waltzed out with Jerry, arms linked and
laughin
’, so stop
apologizin
’.”

I nodded then, even though it probably sounded stupid, it was true, I said to Mace, “I really could use a cup of coffee. Do you guys have a kitchenette?”

“I’ll get Brody to make a pot,” Mace told me.

“Shit no!” Monty exclaimed, moving away from the desk. “Brody’s coffee’s thicker than custard. One
cup’ll
keep you awake a week. I’ll make it.”

“Thanks Monty,” I said to his back. He didn’t turn around, he just lifted up a hand, flicked out his index and middle fingers and walked out.

“Shit to do,” Mace mumbled, tagged me with a hand behind my head and brought me close, leaned low (Mace was really tall), kissed my forehead, then he was gone.

Monty made coffee and Shirleen, who didn’t file but apparently did serve coffee or at least she did to recently returned kidnap victims, brought it in with milk, sugar and mugs.

I had just taken my first fortifying sip (Monty made excellent coffee) when the door opened and Hector was there.

He looked at me, his face as dark as thunder.

I smiled at him.

For some reason, his face stayed dark and his gaze moved to the room.

“Get out,” he told everyone.

My smile died.

“Hector!” I snapped.

No one seemed offended by this and everyone moved to leave. There were smiles and Monty even chuckled.

I didn’t think this was funny.

Hector was being rude!

“You don’t have to leave,” I told them, putting my mug on the desk but they were gone, the door closing behind Tom, right before it did, I saw him turn then wink then he disappeared from sight.

I glared at Hector.

“That was rude,” I told him.

He was three feet away from me.

Then, without apparently moving, he was right there, his arms around me, crushingly tight. My body plastered against his, his mouth came down hard on mine.

His kiss took my breath away. The only thing I could do was put my hands to either side of his neck and hold on.

He tore his mouth from mine and touched our foreheads for a nanosecond before moving back an inch.

His eyes were blazing hot, not with desire or anger but with something else that
still
made my knees go weak.

“Scared the shit out of me,” he told me.

At the depth of feeling in his voice, all my organs at once ceased working.

“Hector,” I whispered.

“Don’t remember the last time I was fuckin’ scared. I don’t fuckin’
get
scared. That’s why I used to find trouble. Would do anything, try anything, fuckin’ fearless. Drove
Mamá
up the wall. Even undercover for the Agency. I fed off the danger. Loved every fuckin’ minute of it. Never felt fear. Not once. Not until last night.”

Oh… my…
God!

Did he just say that?

He went on, “I didn’t like it, Sadie.”

Yes, he just said it.

My fingers tightened on his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“This has got to end,” he told me and I really didn’t like the tone of his voice. I didn’t like it so much my fingers went even tighter at his neck.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That means Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B means this ends.”

My heart started tripping over itself (but at least it was now beating).

“What are you going to do?”

“Was
toyin
’ with ‘em, the Balduccis,
pittin
’ them against each other. I wanted them to feel the fear. Trip up. Get angry. Turn their attention from you to each other so they’d implode. I wanted them to do stupid shit so we could get them and they’d go down. They took it beyond my expectations, poisoned their own fuckin’ brother. Then they branched back out your way, torched your gallery and in the meantime your father stepped in and if we don’t shut him down, he’s gonna fuck everything up.”

I was stuck on his earlier point.

“Do you think they poisoned Harvey?” I asked.

“Poison isn’t Seth’s style. He doesn’t mind mess. He likes to make a statement.”

He was talking about my father and his words made my blood run cold.

Hector went on, “Marty has a chemistry set. We know he
roofies
girls he wants to fuck who won’t give him the time of day. Likes to do the same to adversaries, makes it easier to kick the shit out of them. Word is, he’s got an interest, he does research, plays around with pharmaceuticals just to see what they’d do. Eddie says there were two deaths by poison last year, both enemies of the Balduccis.”

I stared at Hector.

Veronica Mars had been “roofied”, in other words, slipped a date rape sedative so she’d go incoherent before she passed out and when she did, the creepy, weak, homicidal high school kid had his way with her (but also her cute, sweet high school ex-boyfriend did too but he had an excuse, he’d also been roofied, it wasn’t a good night for our plucky Veronica).

“That’s gross,” I said to Hector.

“That’s Marty,” Hector said back.

“What’s Plan B?”

“You don’t have to know what Plan B is but while it’s
happenin
’, you aren’t outside touching distance of me or one of the boys. Clear?”

“Clear,” I agreed. “But I think I want to know what Plan B is.”

He shook his head.

“Hector –” I started.

“You agreed I’d take care of you, I’m
takin
’ care of you. That’s all you need to know.”

“Hector!”

He gave me a squeeze, his eyes went narrow and then, obviously because this was important, for good measure, he gave me a shake.

“Sadie, I’m
askin
’ you to trust me.”

I pulled in my lips, bit them and stared at him.

I’d made this bed, I’d tested that trust, I’d let him know it and now I was lying in said bed.

Blooming heck!

I had only one choice.

“Oh, all right,” I gave in and watched his face start to relax. “But only if you let me paint your living room whatever color I want.”

It was his turn to stare.

And he did this for awhile.

Finally, he said, “
Mamita
, you’re a little crazy.”

Maybe I was.

But I was also on a mission.

“Do I get to paint your living room?” I asked.

He sighed then rested his forehead against mine. This time, he kept it there.

Then it was his turn to give in. “Just not pink.”

“I’m not going to paint your living room pink!” I yelled, pulling my head away. “I can’t believe you’d even think that.”

At my outburst, his face went warm and, for some bizarre reason, he muttered, “Will of fuckin’ steel.”

“What?” I asked.

“Shit keeps comin’ at you. Bad shit. Rape, your mother’s murder, arson, kidnapping and you’re
standin
’ here wantin’ to paint my living room. You got a will of fuckin’ steel.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I didn’t say anything but Hector did.

“And before you ask,
mi corazón
, that’s good,” he told me quietly.

My belly went into melt mode, he touched his lips to mine, soft, sweet and way too short.

I decided to change the subject from my “will of steel” (even though I liked that he thought that about me, it felt good).

“I need to talk to you about what Jerry and my father said.”

“You had breakfast?”

“Jerry gave me a bowl of cereal.”

He let me go, stepped away but curled his arm around my neck and headed us to the door.

“I’ll feed you, you tell me then we’ll go to Home Depot, get you some paint.”

I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it because there it was again.

I had a trauma.

I survived it.

Then Hector made life better again.

I stopped our progress to the door by planting my feet, putting a hand to his stomach and pressing into his side. I leaned up on tiptoes and, this time,
I
touched my mouth to
his
.

“Thanks, babe,” I said softly against his mouth.

At my words, I watched, close up, as his eyes flared, he curled me fully to his front, his mouth came down on mine and he gave me a kiss that was so far from a touch on the lips, it wasn’t even funny.

When he was done, he lifted his head. I was leaned into him, arms around him, unable to hold myself up and he had that possessive look in his eye.

“There she is,” he whispered.

“Who?” I asked.

“
My
Sadie.”

And, indeed, there I was.

And being there, Hector’s Sadie smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fred and Wilma

Sadie

I felt warmth at my neck, it moved up and then fingers sifted into my hair.

This was such a pleasant sensation, my mind decided to come awake, I opened my eyes and looked up.

“Hi,” I said softly to Hector who was sitting on the edge of the couch. I was on my side, hands in prayer position under my cheek, my knees bent and his hips were in the crook of my lap.