His eyes changed again, he wasn’t playing at flirting anymore, he was watching me closely.
“How bad is this something?”
“Bad,” I said.
“Steal a candy bar bad or worse?”
“Worse, a lot worse.”
Then I leaned across the table and motioned to him to do the same. He did and when he was a couple inches away I whispered, “Murder.”
Then I sat back.
There, I did it.
Whew. That was a load off my mind.
Hank stayed where he was, stony-faced and serious and he crooked a finger at me.
Uh-oh.
The load settled right back on my mind.
I didn’t want to but I leaned forward again.
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
I sighed.
Then I told him about Darius and Shirleen, keeping names out of it, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out.
When I was done, he sat back and his arm went along the seat again. He looked away and muttered, “Fucking hell.”
The waitress served our food, snatched up our drinks and shot off to get us refills even though we’d both only taken a few sips. I knew from experience what it could do to your tips if you weren’t super careful with refills.
“That why you want to talk to Eddie?” Hank asked.
I nodded.
“Lee know about this?”
“Matt was there.”
“Lee knows about it,” he said to himself. He dug into his jeans and pulled out his phone. He was ignoring his food and so was I, even though I’d missed lunch due to iced tea and Days of Our Lives so I was really hungry.
He hit a button and put the cell to his ear, his eyes flashed on me and he said, “Eat. I have a few calls to make.”
I ate.
The waitress brought back our drinks.
Hank made a few calls.
Then he ate.
“I don’t want them to be mad at me,” I said after we finished.
“Who?” he asked.
“The people who… well, I think they’re kinda my friends and in a way doing this for me. I think they’re good people doing bad things.”
“It’s simple. A bad thing is a bad thing, no matter who does it or why, and homicide is the worst thing there is.”
He was right. Though I figured forcing a girl to live in fear of being raped was pretty high up there.
“Jet,” Hank called and I looked at him, “Fratelli has one true friend right now and that’s you. Marcus isn’t happy because not only is Daisy pissed at him, Vince is making him look bad. Eddie and Lee are gonna spend the meeting trying to talk Marcus out of giving the same order you heard today. Marcus is gonna pretend to play the game, because if he doesn’t, Eddie’ll be all over him, he’s just looking for an excuse. But Marcus is gonna make the order anyway. It’s the only way to send the message. Vince is in a load of hurt, with both Darius and Marcus ordering the kill. You keep Eddie, or me, informed of this shit when you hear it, maybe we can stop it before it happens.”
I nodded.
He watched me.
“You don’t look happy.”
“I think I betrayed a friend,” I whispered.
Hank caught my hand on the table and tugged at it. I came forward and so did he, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
“Eddie tell you about Darius?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’ve known both Darius and Shirleen what seems my whole life. Darius came from a good family, but Shirleen married badly. Her husband, Leon, was a sonovabitch, mean as hell and dirty as they come. He’s the one that turned Darius. Shirleen was a different Shirleen back then, beaten down and powerless. She couldn’t control what happened to Darius and Leon had long since tied her up in that shit as well. Leon was whacked two years ago and Shirleen and Darius assumed their positions when the king was dead. They did it because it’s all they know and the only place they feel safe. They got a different set of rules, but it’s the wrong set.”
I swallowed and his hand squeezed mine.
“Jet, it’s the wrong set. You did the right thing. I like both of them and I’d hate to see either of them go down but if they did, they’d deserve it.”
I moved forward a bit more and asked, “How do you live this life all the time? They’re your friends. How do you do it? I couldn’t stand it.”
His eyes changed and his hand tightened even more on mine, “I can do it because their shit doesn’t stay in their circle, it filters down to kids in schools and old people wanting quiet lives forced to live next to crack houses and pretty girls who work in bookstores who have shitheel fathers. Someone has to protect those people.”
“That’s you,” I said.
“That’s me and that’s Eddie,” he replied.
“You don’t see gray,” I told him.
His hand let go of mine.
“Sorry?”
“You see black and white, you don’t see gray,” I said.
“No. I don’t see gray, it’s not my job, it’s the judge’s job to see gray,” he said it and he meant it. I could tell because his face went hard and kinda scary.
I stared at him. He was the boy-next-door, the boy-next-door with an edge.
“You’re scary too,” I said.
He grinned, taking us out of the moment.
“I’m the good guy.”
“You’re the scary good guy,” I said.
He motioned to the waitress. Our conversation was over.
“Let’s get you home.”
* * * * *
By “home” Hank meant Eddie’s. He parked on the street, I let us in using my key for the first time.
He sat down and immediately found a ballgame on TV.
(Why was there always a ballgame on TV? Didn’t these sports people take a night off?)
I got Hank and myself a beer and called Mom and Lottie. They were playing Trivial Pursuit with Tex. I called Daisy. She was waiting in the Denver Castle for Marcus to get home and giving herself a do-it-yourself facial. I called Ally. She was shouting to me over the crowd at Brother’s. I called Indy. She was watching Chowleena while Tod and Stevie were flying off to God-knew-where (Indy’s words) and making cookies to bring into Fortnum’s the next day.
I ran out of people to call so I took off my shoes, put my feet up on the table, sat back on the couch and took a pull on my beer.
I watched the game for about five seconds.
It was boring.
“I’m bored,” I told Hank.
Hank’s eyes slid to me, then back to the game.
“Not sure I can pull off your brand of excitement,” he said.
“What brand is that?”
“Stun-gunning, running for your life, bar brawls. We could go out and try to rustle something up but I think Eddie’d frown on that.”
“You got any perps to stake out?” I asked hopefully, sounding depressingly like Ada. It wouldn’t be a great deal of fun, but it’d be something. “I’ll make a thermos of coffee.”
His lips turned up. “I’m off-duty tonight.”
Hmm.
“You know how to play poker?” I tried.
His eyes slid to me again. “You play poker?” he asked.
“No, I thought you could teach me.”
His eyes went that lazy-flirty again. I immediately thought it was a bad idea, but it was too late. He clicked off the TV, got up, grabbed my hand and pulled me up.
“Let’s see if Eddie’s got some cards.”
* * * * *
“Shit, Hank. Seriously?”
I was dreaming, Eddie was speaking and Eddie sounded kinda pissed off.
“She fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.”
That was confusing, now Hank was speaking and he sounded kinda amused.
I was used to dreaming of Eddie, I hadn’t dreamt of Hank yet. Dreaming of Hank and Eddie was probably not a good thing.
I tried opening my eyes.
The
y opened all right and I could see down a long leg, at the end of which was a foot wearing a brown boot that was sitting on a coffee table. Beyond the coffee table was another pair of legs in faded jeans. I looked up the jeans to see Eddie’s belt, then Eddie’s abs, then Eddie’s chest, then Eddie.
“Hey,” I said to Eddie, still half-asleep.
He was staring down at me and I was right, he was kinda pissed off.
I blinked.
“What?” I asked.
“You wanna get your head out of Hank’s lap?”
I shot up and twisted around and I did it so fast, I became dizzy and had to throw my hand out to steady myself. It landed on Hank’s thigh. I pulled it away like it burned and stared at Hank.
He was grinning at me.
My fucking luck.
Definitely the boy-next-door with an edge.
His hand came out and he wrapped it around my head. Then he leaned forward, kissed my forehead, pulled back and looked in my eyes.
“Fun night, Jet,” he said.
Then he got up and grinned at Eddie too and said, “We had dinner, we played poker, we didn’t get shot at and she fell asleep watching a movie. You should be thanking me.”
Eddie just stared at him, obviously not feeling thankful. This made Hank’s grin turn into a full-on smile.
“I’ll let myself out,” Hank offered, the smile firmly in place. He thought this was hilarious.
I stood up and looked from Eddie to Hank. Eddie was also not feeling in the mood to be polite, so I followed Hank to the door.
“Thanks Hank,” I said, when he’d cleared the door.
He turned, winked and he was gone.
I locked up behind him, started to turn back into the room and my shoulder bumped into Eddie.
I looked up at him.
Uh-oh.
“Have fun?” he asked.
Actually, I did. Hank beat the shit out of me hand after hand in poker, but since we were playing for pretzel sticks, I didn’t mind too much. He also flirted with me outrageously, which, at first, freaked me right, the hell, out. Then I realized he was just playing with me and I found that kinda fun too.
I didn’t tell Eddie any of that.
I was reading loud and clear that Eddie wouldn’t have thought any of that was fun.
“Eddie—”
He didn’t let me finish, his hands came to my waist and he pulled me to him, and then they came up and with them came my t-shirt. Then it was gone.
“Eddie…”
“Sat down with Marcus tonight,” Eddie said, walking backwards and taking me with him, “Marcus who runs guns, drugs and whores. Dabbles in drugs, mainly focuses on flesh and selling shit that tears through it.”
Eek!
We cleared the coffee table and couch and I thought we were heading to the bedroom but I was wrong. Instead, he turned, my back came up against the wall and Eddie pressed into me.
“Made a deal with him. He finds Vince, Slick or your Dad, he hands them over to me. Since he’s lookin’ for all of them, mostly for Daisy, this wouldn’t be so bad, ‘cept he has to hand them over to me.”
His hands were at my jeans, he undid my belt and then my jeans while he was talking. When he stopped, he bent low to pull them down, snagging my underwear with them and keeping me against the wall with his other hand at my belly.
Dear Lord.
“Eddie…” I said.
He came up and both of his hands went to my bottom and he yanked me up. I threw my arms and legs around him to hold on and he pressed me tight against the wall. My stomach pitched in a not altogether unpleasant way (in fact, it was altogether pleasant).
His mouth went to my neck and he kept talking.
“Problem is, Marcus doesn’t do somethin’ for nothin’.”
His teeth gently nipped my earlobe and I shivered.
He went on whispering in my ear, “So, in order for him to give me these guys, and there’s a good chance he’ll find ‘em before I do, I gotta do something for him in return.”
He paused to run his tongue down my jaw and, I couldn’t help it, I wanted to be angry or outraged, but I was turned on. I didn’t know what that said about me but I didn’t care.
His lips went from my jaw to my cheek and then he said against my mouth, “I don’t like owing Marcus.”
I held my breath, opened my eyes and looked into his.
They were glittery and liquid. Another new look.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He let go of my bottom but I held on tight.
His hand went between us and worked at his jeans.
“Sorry about me owin’ Marcus or comin’ home to you with your head in Hank’s lap?”
I should have said, “Both.”
Instead, I said, “Marcus. I didn’t start out in Hank’s lap, it just happened.”
His fingers went from his jeans to me and, without warning, one slid inside.
“Ohmigod,” I whispered. I couldn’t help it, it felt so good, it deserved an “ohmigod”.
“A lot of shit just happens when you’re with other guys,” Eddie said low, his mouth still against mine, then his fingers moved, his thumb got involved, my bones dissolved, I closed my eyes and pressed my hips against him.
“It’s nothing,” I breathed.
“Jet, open your fuckin’ eyes and look at me.”
I did.
His eyes were burning into me. I realized in the middle of a turned-on daze that something was happening and it had a lot to do with Eddie being hot-blooded, me being his w-word and Eddie not liking coming home after a shitty task he did for me to find me with my head in some other man’s lap.
I couldn’t say I blamed him.
His fingers kept up their torture as he spoke.
“You’re gonna have to wake up to the shit happenin’ around you. You think Hank doesn’t want this…” His finger went out and then back in and I was pretty sure it was joined with another one, “you’re wrong.”
I was finding it difficult to keep my concentration on our conversation but felt it was important I do so.
I tried to explain.
“Hank’s your friend, he sees in black and white, he plays by the good guy’s rules. He told me so. He wouldn’t try anything with me.”
Eddie wasn’t convinced.
“I think I’ve been pretty fuckin’ tolerant of your shit until now, but I’m warnin’ you, tonight it ends. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though I didn’t really understand, I was beginning to.
His fingers went away but then he filled me and immediately started moving.
“You don’t understand. You don’t have a fuckin’ clue,” he said against my neck.
I’d never had sex against a wall, or anywhere other than a bed, except, of course, the stuff Eddie and I did in the shower. The shower stuff wasn’t sex as such, as it didn’t involve penetration and acrobatics, just fingers, mouths and eventual orgasms. Mostly, my orgasms.
Okay, all my orgasms.
This was all new to me.
New and yum.
I chanced moving my arm from hanging on for dear life around his shoulders and slid my fingers into his hair.
“Eddie,” I whispered.
His head came up. “What?” he asked, still moving.
“Are you done talking?”
He ground his hips into me and I bit my lip.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Then, would you please kiss me?”
The glitter went out of his eyes, leaving only the liquid. I felt a deep relief in my belly, then a deep thrust somewhere else and then he obliged.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bloody T-shirts and Biohazard Bags
The alarm went off, Eddie touched a button and rolled out of bed.
I tensed, waiting for him to yank me out with him, but he didn’t.
I heard him moving around the room and I opened my eyes, noticing it was dark, way early and I sincerely hoped he was only getting up
either to use the bathroom or program the coffee maker for later.
I fell back to sleep.
Then I heard beeping buttons like someone pressing them and I opened my eyes.
I was on Eddie’s side of the bed, hugging Eddie’s pillow and smelling Eddie, probably both on his pillow and on him. He was crouched by the bed, fully clothed and fiddling with the alarm.
“Eddie?” I muttered.
His head turned toward me, “Shh, Cariña, go back to sleep.”
I noticed the clock, it was still way early.
I got up on my elbow.
“Whas goin’ on?” I mumbled. It was so early I couldn’t fully form words.
He came out of the crouch but sat on the side of the bed.
“I’m goin’ to work,” he said.
I blinked, coming quickly awake. “What about our shower?”
“Maybe we’ll shower later.”
Something was wrong. Eddie liked our showers, a lot (or, as far as I could tell he did).
I sat up feeling strange and, maybe, a little scared. “Are you mad at me?” I whispered.
His hand came out and tucked hair behind my ear. “Why would you think that?”
I felt something lodge in my throat.
I knew what it was.
It was fear.
Okay, so maybe I was a lot scared.
“Last night… Hank,” I answered.
For a second he didn’t move, then he put his hands at my waist and pulled me around so I was sitting on his lap.
Then his lips touched my neck and he said, “I wasn’t mad at you last night.”
“You sure seemed mad.”
“That wasn’t mad, that was frustrated.”
Dear Lord, if that wasn’t mad, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see mad.
His head came up and he looked at me in the dark.
“I don’t like Marcus,” he said.
“I think I got that.”
I could swear, even in the dark, I could see him smile.
“I also don’t like seein’ you with other guys.”
“I haven’t been with other guys.”
“Vance?”
Hmm.
“Mace?”
Well, what could I say? That was a life or death situation.
“Hank?”
I didn’t really have an excuse for that one.
“I’ll try to do better,” I said.
“Try real hard.”
Eek.
Time for a new subject.