Rock Chick 05 Revenge (8 page)

“Yeah, fine.”

“My phone says this number is blocked. Are you home?”

Shit.

I had to make a split-second decision. Lie to her or tell her the truth when the truth would both freak her out (her living room getting shot out and Dom, still her husband, being delivered a very scary message) and make her jump for joy (that I was standing in Luke’s t-shirt in his loft in LoDo).

I decided to hedge. “Listen, I’m really tired, I’ll call you tomorrow. Tell you all about it.”

“Did you find anything?”

I had to give her something and that something had to be something Luke, who I was certain was listening, couldn’t get anything out of. “Just an industrial-sized box of condoms in his nightstand.”

Silence.

“Sissy?”

“Guess he isn’t pining for me, hunh?”

“Sissy,” I said softly, feeling her pain as only best friends do and wishing she were closer so I could give her a hug.

“Get to sleep, it’s late. Tell me about it tomorrow,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I want to hear about the Luke thing tomorrow too. Ally called my cell, said something happened between you guys. She said he carried you through the reception area!”

Oh crap.

“Ally,” Sissy laughed. “She’s so full of shit.”

Oh
crap!

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I told her.

“Ava?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. You’re the bestest best friend a girl could have.”

I smiled into the phone.
That
was worth getting shot at for.

“Later,” I said.

“Later,” and I heard her disconnect.

I looked at the phone and realized I didn’t know how to turn it off.

I didn’t have to wonder long, it was pulled out of my hand because Luke, again silent as a cat, was right beside me. He beeped it off as I stared at him and saw he was wearing nothing but a pair of dark (probably black) shorts that rode low on his hips but were long on his thighs.

I swallowed as he walked away and put the phone on the kitchen counter. Then he turned and started back to me.

Now what?

I looked from his shorts to his face. “Do you have a blanket?” I asked.

“Why?” he asked back, stopping close.

“So I can sleep on your couch.”

“You aren’t sleeping on the couch.”

I looked around, confused then asked, “Why not?”

“You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“So, you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“No.”

“Are you sleeping on the floor?” I asked, surprised, but figured it was maybe some Zen, macho guy thing, roughing it on a plank wood floor.

“No.”

Uh-oh.

“Where are you sleeping?” I asked.

His hand shot out and, too late, I saw the blurry glint of steel and heard the clanking right before the bracelet was slapped on my wrist.

I pulled back. “Oh no,” I said, my heart thumping in my chest and my blood pumping through my veins.

He slapped the other bracelet on his own wrist.

“No!” I shouted, yanking back, viciously this time, but it was like he didn’t feel the pull. He just leaned in, shoulder to my belly, picked me up, his free arm around my thighs, his other wrist bound to mine and he started to the bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, feet kicking, pushing at his waist with my free hand.

This was too much. Too
fucking
much.

“Going to bed,” he said calmly.

“Handcuffed to me?”

“Damn straight.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” he said, tossing me on the bed and coming down with me.

I tried to scramble away. He pulled me back with a jerk on the cuff.

I stopped scrambling and stared at his fuzzy face in the dark. “Not taking any chances with what?”

“You taking off in the middle of the night, getting shot at again, kidnapped, car bombed, any of it.”

I was right, he
was
nuts. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning, after you tell me about your
little bit
of trouble.”

Eek!

I decided to ignore the second part of that. “Tell me now.”

“Go to sleep, Ava.”

“Uncuff me!”

“Settle down and go to sleep,” he ordered, settling himself on his back.

“Un… cuff… me!” I pulled hard at the cuff.

He jerked it again, harder, and I toppled into him, breasts to chest and his other arm went tight around my waist.

“Settle,” he said low.

I glared in the general direction of his face, knowing I would never win but not about to give in gracefully.

“I hate you,” I declared.

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“Okay, maybe whoever this new Ava is does but she’s a bitch and I don’t give a fuck if she hates me. The old Ava doesn’t hate me and she’s in there somewhere, I saw her five minutes ago and that’s who I’m keeping safe.”

That knocked the breath out of me and cut me deep.

So deep, to hide how much it hurt, I did as he told me to do and settled into his side, my body mostly on him because my right wrist was cuffed to his left and his arm was thrown out wide to keep me there. Without anywhere else to put it, I rested my head on his shoulder. Still, I held myself tense because I was totally freaked out.

Woo hoo! We’re in bed with Luke!
Bad Ava crowed.

Oh, this feels nice. His chest is so hard and his body is so warm,
Good Ava breathed.

If Good Ava and Bad Ava could get close, I was certain they would high five.

Jeez.

I lay there, trying to relax. I couldn’t relax.

So I started talking. “I won’t get shot at again,” I muttered into his shoulder.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

“I certainly won’t get kidnapped, the idea is ridiculous.”

He was silent.

“And a car bomb, what on earth?” I mumbled.

“Babe.”

“What?”

“Please be quiet and go to sleep.”

“Fine,” I snapped.

His arm around my waist tightened and his other hand came close to rest on his chest, forcing my hand to rest on his chest too. I slid off his body but he held me close to his side.

I figured I’d never in a million years, snuggled up next to Luke Stark, man of my dreams, wearing his t-shirt, lying in his big bed, in his huge loft (and handcuffed to him for God’s sake), get to sleep.

It took, like, five minutes and I was dead to the world.

Chapter Four

Payment

I woke up in the middle of the night when my body moved, not of its own volition.
 

I opened my eyes; it was still dark. Luke had turned into me, his arm holding me close, pulling me over the top of his body.
 

“What’s going on?” I whispered, my voice sleepy.

“Shh,” he shushed me and rolled, taking me with him, settling me on my other side.

Our cuffed arms were cocked and up between our bodies and he had me close so his and my forearms were pressed beneath my breasts. His free hand slid down my hip, to my thigh, pulling it up, gliding down the back of my thigh to my knee and hooking my leg over his hip.

If I hadn’t been mostly asleep, I would have probably flipped out at the intimacy of this position, struggled and maybe thrown a hissy fit.
 

Instead, I was warm, tired and the position was ultra comfortable.
 

I snuggled into his warm body, his arm moved to rest at my waist and I fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

I woke up and blinked at all the sunlight coming into the room. Denver was a sunny place but this was crazy.

I stared at the wall of hard-muscled chest that was right in front of my eyes and for a second felt confusion.

Then it all came back to me and I tensed. Inventorying my situation I realized I was pressed against Luke’s side, he was on his back, our cuffed arms on the bed under our bodies, my thigh thrown across both of his, my head on his shoulder, my free arm resting across his abs.

Ho-ly shit!

I rolled away onto my back.

“You’re awake,” Luke said.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

“Yeah,” I said to the ceiling.

He rolled toward me, hand going to my hip, his fingers putting pressure there so I turned into him and we were face-to-face. Since we were close and it was light, I could see him pretty well. He looked very awake, very alert and very gorgeous.

Holy cramoly.

“Time to talk,” he said.

Eek!

I was a morning person. I usually only had to brush my teeth and have a couple sips of diet cola to clear out the sleep-cobwebs and then I was all morning energy. Still, I wasn’t ready to talk, certainly not lying face-to-face in Luke’s bed.

“I need to brush my teeth,” I told him.

“After we talk.”
 

“No, seriously, I can’t face the day without brushing my teeth.” As I mentioned before, this was the truth.

He stared at me, probably trying to decide if I was lying or not. I didn’t blame him. I had lied to him a lot in the last less than twenty-four hours.
 

He must have made his decision because he rolled into me, over me and reached to the nightstand, opened a drawer and pulled out his keys. He rolled back, lifted our wrists and unlocked my bracelet. I was silent through this as I’d had another close-up view of his chest and I was fighting the urge to press my mouth to it (and I won’t even mention what I wanted to do with my tongue).

The minute I was free I didn’t hesitate. I jumped off the bed, hightailing it to the bathroom, totally intent on escape. It was after I used the facilities, splashed water on my face to wash away the sleep, brushed my teeth and put in my contacts that I realized my mistake.
 

I should have brought my clothes in with me.

Hell and damnation.

I pulled my hair back away from my face with both hands and stared into my light brown eyes the mirror (both my sisters had sultry, dark brown eyes, which sucked and wasn’t fair, I couldn’t dye my eyes and colored contacts I thought looked fake).
 

Since I couldn’t at that moment do anything about the fact that I was barely dressed, I focused on what to do with my hair.

Last time I saw Luke, my hair had been shoulder length. I’d only gone for trims since then allowing my hair to grow long, down my back to my bra strap with thick, chunky layers cut in. It had always had an unruly wave, and length and weight had done nothing to tame it, in fact it went all the more wild. I needed a ponytail holder. It was now a mess of waves and tangles and currently in an untamable state without a shampoo and a shitload of product to force it under my control.

Oh well, what the hell. I had to go with it. No way was I taking a shower in Luke’s bathroom for this would mean being naked and there was no way in hell I was going to be naked at Luke’s place, not even in the shower.

I dropped my hands, walked out of the bathroom and stopped dead.

A man was walking out of the elevator carrying my purse. He was blond, trim, fit and ultra cute. His eyes cut to me and took me in, top to toe, standing there frozen and wearing nothing but Luke’s Triumph tee.

Then he grinned.

Crap.

His eyes moved to Luke. So did mine.

Luke was standing by the semi-circle kitchen counter, wearing only shorts (yes, black) that were made of that breathable material with the tiny little dents in it like basketball players wore. They hung loose and super low on his hips, running long (but not as long as the basketball ones), partially down his thighs. They showed not only the definition of his hip bones in sexy relief but most of a pair of knockout muscular thighs and calves. I would be remiss not to mention a full blown, sunny loft, contacts in view of his well-defined chest with not-too-much, not-too-little, but
just the perfect amount
of chest hair, jutting collarbone and stubbled jaw.

There was also a long, brutal looking scar tracing across his six pack.

Ho-ly crap.

My knees wobbled at the sight.

“Shit, Luke, I had two days in the pool. Christ, you tied Lee’s record,” the blond guy said.

Luke did a half-grin.

“What?” I asked.

The blond guy looked at me, still grinning. “Nothin’,” he said. “I’m Matt.”