Spectacular Rascal: A Sexy Flirty Dirty Standalone Romance (17 page)

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I say. The throbbing pain on the right side of my face is the least I deserve for doing such a shit job of handling Cat’s intervention so far.

“Nonsense. Of course they sound good.” Shane puts the kettle on the range beside the sink—as opposed to the other range located on the island near Fang, making me wonder if I’ve ever been in a kitchen with two stoves. “I’ll bring both, and you can decide which you prefer. No need to suffer. And if you get sleepy, you’re welcome to take a nap here. I have two guest rooms, though I’m guessing you two would prefer to share.”

Cat stands up straight, shrugging off the arm I’ve wrapped around her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Shane’s full lips twist in a smirk as she circles around the island. “Why don’t you join me in my bedroom while I fetch the painkillers, Catherine Elizabeth, and we’ll see how long you can stick to that story.”

“I can’t leave Feefs,” Cat says, holding her ground as Shane loops an arm through hers. “Seriously. Someone needs to keep an eye on my puppy.”

“Luckily Aidan appears to be someone,” Shane says. “Are you someone Aidan?”

“Last time I checked,” I respond dryly, wondering how long I’ll be able to hold my own against these two.

“Perfect.” Shane’s grin widens. “And sweet baby Fifi isn’t going to be awake for another half hour at least. Now that she’s warm, she’s gone back to sleep, which is probably for the best. The longer she sleeps it off, the less disorientated she’ll be when she wakes up. But you’ll keep a close eye on Precious, just in case. Right, Aidan?”

“Of course. I’ll be right here.”

“Perfect.” Shane winks at me like we’re coconspirators in some mission I don’t understand as she tugs Cat toward the other side of the room. “We’ll be right back with pills. After I get Cat to confess how long you two have been sleeping together and share the most interesting details.”

“Jesus Christ, stop it,” Cat whispers as she takes the lead, urging Shane more swiftly toward a pair of double doors framed by the bookshelves. “How are you this meddlesome at six thirty in the morning?”

“Morning person,” Shane chirps. “I’d already done yoga, watered the orchids, and was sitting down to make my list for the day when you called.”

“Bet you put yoga and watering orchids on the list anyway, didn’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Shane stretches her arms overhead, wiggling her fingers happily as Red opens the door to what looks like an obscenely enormous bedroom. “There is absolutely nothing in the world more satisfying than marking things off lists.”

“Then you won’t need to hear any details of what Aidan and I have been up to,” Cat says with a smug grin. “We haven’t marked a single item off of a single list. We haven’t even made a list.”

Shane waves a hand through the air, ignoring the arm Cat extends pointedly between them, encouraging her friend to precede her into the other room. “That’s okay. I can make a list of the things I
think
you’ve been up to, and then I’ll mark off the guesses that are right. As someone who hasn’t dated in over a year, I need to live vicariously through my girlfriends, and none of my other girlfriends have big sexy lumberjack boyfriends.” The kettle begins to whistle, and Shane starts toward the stove only to be stopped by Cat’s arm through hers.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Cat snaps as I turn off the burner and shift the kettle to the other side of the stove. “We’re old friends, and he’s currently my employee. Aidan is the bodyguard type person I told you I was going to hire to help Nico get the message that things are over between us.”

Shane’s nose wrinkles. “Well, he’s clearly not getting the message.”

“I know,” Cat says through gritted teeth.

“And you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with your employees,” Shane adds, shooting me a “sorry about that” look.

Cat’s arms flap up and down at her sides. “I never said I was sleeping with anyone, you psycho!”

“It didn’t need to be said. You guys have ‘recently been banging’ written all over you. Might as well make matching ‘We Just Banged and All We Got Was Some Orgasms’ tee shirts and wear them around town. I mean, I hope you both had orgasms. I don’t like to assume, but you both give off an ‘I know what I’m doing in the bedroom’ vibe.”

“Inside.” Cat points a stern finger into the bedroom. “Now, before you say anything else that makes me want to blush or muzzle you.”

Shane giggles. Cat pushes her into the room before turning to me with a pained expression. “I’m so sorry.”

I force a smile. “It’s no big deal.”

“No, it is. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Cat says. “I’ll explain everything and be back in a few minutes. I promise I’ll have her dialed back to embarrassment Threat Level Blue by then.”

“Good luck, Sweet Pea,” Shane calls out from inside the bedroom. “Better women than you have tried and failed.”

Cat huffs and rolls her eyes before closing the doors with a firm
thu-dud.

And then I’m alone with only one chatty female, who is presently still asleep.

Figuring it might be the only peaceful moment I’ll have for a while, I tug my phone from my pocket and turn it on. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for an onslaught of textual abuse from Bash and the unpleasant task of telling my best friend that I’m the first consultant in Magnificent Bastard history to sustain blunt force trauma while on duty.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

As expected, the moment my phone comes online, the texts start dumping onto my screen.

There is one from my stepmother offering her cutest guest cottage if I can make time for a summer visit, one from a girl I took for tofu burgers last week and decided not to call again due to irreconcilable, I-Refuse-To-Become-A-Vegetarian differences, and two from my front desk guy at the shop, Gus, letting me know one of my appointments for next week had to cancel, but that he’s already moved a wait-listed client into her place.

The rest are from my very irate best friend/boss—

Don’t you dare turn off your phone, Aidan! You don’t have that option right now. We have things we need to talk about.

Turn your phone back on, asshole!

You fucking arrogant, stupid, passive-aggressive punk…

Well, fuck you, too, shit stick. Fuck you very much. Or fuck me, I guess, since I’m the one who’s apparently to blame for you deciding to risk your life for some girl you had a two-week stand with.

I’m assuming it was a two-week stand, since I haven’t noticed you keeping a girl around for longer than that lately. But maybe this woman is a blast from farther in your past?

Either way, why didn’t she mention that you two had a history, Aidan? Why be sneaky and give me a fake name and lie like a liar who lies?

I’ll tell you why—because she is taking perverse, revenge-y pleasure in putting your life in danger. She’s getting revenge on Nico and you at the same time, buddy, and you’re falling for her evil plan hook, line, and sinker. And, sure, you’ll get paid if you complete the job, but you might be dead or in protective custody by the time payday rolls around.

And maybe that’s exactly what this psycho bitch wanted from the start—you dead, or with your life permanently fucked up beyond recognition.

Think on that, asshole.

Think on it long and hard, and then Call. Me. Back.

I let out a measured breath, determined not to let Bash piss me off. He will say—or text—anything when he’s angry. I know this. I’ve known this since sixth grade when we got into a fight and he told all the kids at the skate park near his grandmother’s house that I thought I’d grown a hair “down there,” but then I peed out of it and realized it was just my tiny, tiny, sad excuse for a dick.

In his defense, I had just picked him up with one arm on a dare from another pre-pubescent asshole—Bash didn’t start getting taller until eighth grade, and I was already gunning for six feet by the time I turned thirteen—but that afternoon taught me that my best friend isn’t himself when he’s angry. Chances are he doesn’t believe a word he texted about Catherine and her revenge plans.

But even if he does, it doesn’t matter. I know the truth. I know that Cat is an old friend who is in over her head, who turned to me because I’m one of the few people in her life who has never let her down. Or who didn’t let her down more than once. And hopefully I made up for that bad call in the woods with the delivery of several mind-numbing orgasms earlier tonight.

My irritation soothed by the thought, I return to the dozen Bash texts that I haven’t read yet. There are several continuing to dish out abuse to me and to Cat and to himself for letting things slide while Penny was gone.

There are also a couple from Penny apologizing on Bash’s behalf…

Don’t pay too much attention to those last texts, Aidan. (This is Penny, btw).

Bash says things he doesn’t mean when he’s upset, but he’s only upset because he loves you and he’s scared for you. So please call us, okay?

You can call my cell if you feel that Bash took things too far with the name-calling. He’s sorry about that, though. I can tell.

And then there are a few more cuss-filled lines from Bash un-apologizing on his own behalf…

I’m not fucking sorry.

I’m fucking angry as fuck, and I will never fucking forgive you if you don’t

CALL ME BEFORE THE SUN GOES DOWN YOU FUCKING FUCK-FACE FUCKER, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST JUST CALL ME ALREADY!

After that, there is a lull of several hours with no texts before the final string, sent around ten p.m. last night.

I just got back from a meeting with your detective friend, Lip, and I have some amazing news. Seriously, my heart is out of my throat for the first time today.

Everything is going to be okay.

Catherine is going to be safe, you’re going to be safe, I’m not going to have a stress-induced stroke, Penny won’t have to follow through with that spanking she threatened to deliver if I didn’t stop texting you in all caps, and everyone will be able to go back to their regular boring lives.

Call me as soon as you read this. I’m not mad anymore, but I do have things to tell you that I promised I wouldn’t send in a text or share over a cell phone.

Shit is happening, Aidan. Big shit.

Get to a landline and call my office phone. I’ll be waiting for your call.

Needless to say, I’m intrigued.

This could all be a ploy from Bash to get me on the phone—he’s smart and very good at manipulating people when he’s not too angry to control his mouth and thumbs—but my gut says he learned something from Lipman, aka Lip, my friend with the NYPD. I’ve tattooed at least of third of Lipman’s body and talked him through a divorce, the death of his partner, and a cancer scare. I’m practically his therapist by this point, and I know if there is anything he can do to help me out of a sticky situation, he’ll do it.

I’d intended to call him last night as soon as Cat and I were settled at her apartment, but drinking, confessions, and sex got in the way. Yet another sign that I didn’t have my head in the game the way I should have. But all of that’s over. From here on out, I’m one-hundred percent focused on Cat’s safety until this mess is behind us.

Then, we’ll see…

Maybe she’ll be interested in exploring something beyond the intervention; maybe she won’t. Either way, that’s not something I can afford to be worried about right now.

After a quick check on Fang, who is still asleep, and snoring a very cute Chihuahua-sized snore, and a glance at the door to Shane’s bedroom—still closed—I look for a phone. I find one on the other side of the kitchen, near a pantry large enough to house a few NFL linebackers and their groceries for the week.

Despite the early hour, Bash answers after the first ring. “Are you all right? Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m all right, and Cat’s all right,” I say softly, not wanting to disturb the dog or the women in the other room. “But a man broke into her place last night. I fought him and he ran off, but not before he drugged her dog and used my face as a punching bag.”

Bash sighs heavily before repeating everything I’ve said to someone on the other end of the line that I can only assume is Penny. “So, you’re not all right is what you’re saying,” he says, voice tight.

“No, I’m fine. Just a few bruises and sore ribs.”

“What about the dog?” Bash asks. “Penny looks like she’s going to cry, so the damned dog better be okay.”

“Fang is fine. She’s been checked by a vet and should be good as new once she sleeps off whatever drug the jerk gave her. But this guy, Petey, who works for Nico, is a scary motherfucker. He fights like an animal,” I say, fingers curling into a fist at my side. “I don’t want to think about how things could have gone down if Cat had been there alone. She knows how to hold her own in a brawl, but this guy was playing dirty. He would have knocked me out if his first blow had hit my head instead of my shoulder.”

Bash curses softly.

“Exactly,” I agree. “It was too close, and I blame myself for it. I underestimated her ex and his thugs, but I’m not going to make the same mistake again. If I can’t figure out a way to keep Cat safe myself, I’ll convince her to go to the authorities. I know witness protection isn’t anyone’s idea of a good life, but at least she’ll be alive to feel shitty about it.”