Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (7 page)

“Why? Are you scared she’ll tell your mom?” I lift my eyebrows and sip from my glass. “I can see how that’s terrifying for a thirty-one-year-old homicide detective.”

“I’m gonna smack your ass in a minute.”

“Do it right as Nonna shows up and I won’t even mind.”

“A devil in a tight dress being spanked at the Holly Woods Halloween party. Isn’t this shindig supposed to be family-friendly?” Drake raises an eyebrow in question.

“Don’t ask me. You’re the police.” I shrug. “Also the one offering the spanking.”

We share a look that gives me light butterflies. Then he steadily wraps his arm around my waist and kisses the side of my head.

“It’s not an offer,” he whispers in my ear. “Try a promise.”

“Looks like I need to get the aloe vera out.”

“One time, Noelle, and it wasn’t even my fault. You’d slipped before, got a bruise, and forgot to tell me. It was dark. How did I know you had a fucking rainbow on your ass cheek before I slapped it?”

“I see I joined this conversation at the right time.” Bek hands me another drink.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I take it and look at my old glass. It’s still a quarter full, but this new margarita is cold, so… I throw the old one back then pass Drake the empty glass. He stares at it before I say, “I’m drinking. I could make this a weapon. Who knows?”

“And let me guess,” he drawls with an upturn of his lips. “As the police, I need to remove the potential weapon to protect the citizens of Holly Woods from the crazed private investigator.”

“No. You need to remove it before Nonna gets here and bashes me over the head with it. You’re actually saving my life.”

Bek snorts as he takes it. “He still has so much to learn.”

“It’s not Nonna you need to worry about,” Drake mutters, setting it on a table behind us.

“What was that?” I ask, oozing innocence. I know exactly what the shit said.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re going to come dressed as yourself, then expect me to ask you to do police-type things all night. You shouldn’t be surprised. You already know I’m a pain in the ass.” And the head. And the balls. And the stomach. And basically everywhere.

What? It’s not my fault I grew up with three brothers who all taught me how to fight. That’s my dad’s fault. He should have had a word with the boys in his balls and made sure at least one other Bond kid was a girl.

“I could arrest you,” Drake reminds me.

“That’s not really a threat,” Bek tells him before sipping. “She’s been waiting for that.”

I pinch her. “Don’t you have a date to be on?”

“A date? You have a date?”

“That’s the third time someone has asked me that. Why is that so surprising to everyone?” Bek holds out on hand, fixing wide eyes on Drake.

“Because your last ‘date’ was signing up to Match-dot-com,” he reminds her.

Looks like he’s dropped the arresting thing.

Damn it.

“It was right after Tinder Dick turned out to be fifty years old and cheating on his wife,” he goes on.

Ah. Yeah. My bad on that one. I had a gut feeling that Tinder Dick wasn’t the hunky summin’ summin’ in his picture. Let’s just say Carlton was pretty scarred and tried to get a day off after being subjected to the horrors of a fifty-year-old man’s penis.

Not that I’m saying fifty-year-old men have horrid penises. I guess cock shots while the Viagra packet is still in the frame would be pretty damn scary to a twenty-something guy in the prime of his life.

Bek shudders. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Who’s your date with?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m nosy.”

“Who has a date?” a familiar voice interrupts.

“The hell did you come fro—what the fuck are you wearing?” I stare at my youngest brother.

“I’m Thor. You know. The superhero.” Brody tugs on the cape.

“Doesn’t he have a hammer?”

“Yep. But he isn’t the only one who can lift it.” Brody grins, prompting Drake to laugh next to me.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response, Brodes. That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s what she said before she picked it up.”

“How old are you?” I wrinkle my face up.

“Can we get back to the question? Who has a date?”

“I have a date!” Bek snaps. “Yes. I have a date. It’s not that surprising.”

“You have a date?” Brody frowns. “Since when did you date?”

“Since before you knew how to get your cock hard, idiot.”

“Oooh, damn,” Drake hisses under his breath. His fingers twitch against my waist.

No shit. It’s like tension is carpet-bombing the fuck out of us. I feel like an intruder, and that’s saying something.

Brody’s eyes narrow. “You’re starting to piss me off, Bek.”

“I’m sure Melanie will cheer you up when you show her your hammer.”

“What is your problem?”

“Apparently, my problem is that I have a date!”

Yeah. If that’s the problem, I’m a drunk, lesbian nun with triplets and a pet skunk.

Brody looks at the glass in her hand. “How much has she had?”

“Not enough for your bullshit, clearly.” Drake claps him on the shoulder. “You should go find Melanie before whatever is in Bek’s glass ends up on you, man.”

Smart man. That’s why I like him.

That and he hasn’t run away screaming yet. Although, there is still time...

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Bek announces, shoving her drink at me.

“You want me to come with you? In case there’s a troll?” I offer. I actually just want to try to squeeze what’s wrong with her out of her.

“You need to lay off the Harry Potter,” she throws back at me.

I’ll take that as a no. “It’s not my fault! Silvio has a crush on Emma Watson!”

Drake and Brody share a look then nod.

I’d be annoyed if I didn’t have a lady-crush on her myself.

“You should probably avoid her for the rest of the night,” I tell Brody, setting both my and Bek’s drinks on the table behind us. “She’s nervous, and when she’s nervous, she’s like a stick of dynamite. If Jason makes it out of here alive tonight, he’s a better man than I thought.”

“She has a date with Jason?” Brody’s words come out sharper than he intended if the sudden stoic mask that comes over his face is anything to go by. “I didn’t think she liked him.”

I shrug. “What am I, the woman whisperer?”

“Her best friend. Aren’t you supposed to know everything?”

“Yes. We regularly strip to our underpants, discuss our cup size, the state of our pubic hair, and whether or not she has a crush on the hot FBI agent. We do that while we’re finding cheating bastards.”

“You think Jason’s hot?” Drake asks me.

“You think Emma Watson’s hot,” I point out then turn back to Brody. “Why are you so bothered anyway? It’s not even an official date. She backed out of that and said she’d meet him here.”

“I’m not bothered. Who said I’m bothered?”

“You know how your right eye twitches when you’re pissed off?”

He nods.

“Your right eye is twitching.”

He stills. After a few seconds, he lifts his hand and rubs the corner of his eye. “God. I hate you sometimes.” He chugs his beer and pushes the empty bottle at me before walking off.

Do I look like a fucking barmaid tonight? Jesus Christ. Next person who hands me a glass is getting it over their head.

“His right eye wasn’t twitching.” Drake looks down at me, stepping back. His fingers trail across my lower back, and tingles erupt across my skin beneath my dress.

I meet his eyes with a smug twist of my lips. “I know. If he wasn’t bothered, he wouldn’t have tried to hide it.”

He slowly shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are a cruel genius, Ms. Bond.”

“I believe the word is bitch, and thank you, Detective.” I curtsey, pulling my imaginary skirt out.

“Don’t do that,” Jason’s voice rings out. “I just saw right down the top of your dress, and I wasn’t even looking.”

I straighten and roll my eyes. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Not intentionally, anyway.”

“If it were anyone else,” Drake says, his lips tugging up.

“Were you curtseying?” Jason frowns, adjusting his shirt. He looks like he tried to dress up…

“Yes, and what are you dressed up as?”

“Off-duty,” he snorts. “Believe me, that’s a costume. Why were you curtseying?”

“He called me a cruel genius. It was sweet.”

“Then she called herself a bitch and started preening like a peacock needing to get laid,” Drake finishes.

Jason’s eyes flick between us, and he pauses, rubbing his thumb across his jaw. “Has anyone ever asked you two how the hell you make this relationship work?”

“More than once. We don’t know, either.”

I… Wait, yeah. That’s kinda true. We are a little strange.

I like our kind of strange though.

“Is Bek here?” Jason fixes his gaze on me.

I try not to smirk. I do. Honestly. Like, really hard. My cheeks hurt right now. But I fail. So badly. Oh, God, I fail so badly, and the corner of my mouth hikes up just a little.

“She’s in the bathroom. She should be back in a minute.”

“Nope. I know that look.” He wags his finger in the direction of my face, his own lips curving. “That’s the ‘I’m about to cause trouble’ look.”

“I’m offended that you think I cause trouble. I usually get people out of it!”

“Noelle, you’re wearing a devil costume just to piss off Nonna,” Drake reminds me.

“Are you on my side or what?” I glare at him then turn back to Jason. “Fine, fine,” I say, holding my hands up. “I was just going to be a good friend and suggest we kinda double-date to alleviate the awkwardness, but that’s okay. She can meet you at the bar. Don’t blame me when your balls are stuck in the neck of a beer bottle.”

Jason slowly moves his gaze from me to Drake. “Is she drunk?”

“She’s female,” Drake drawls in response. “And also, very true. Bek is a little neurotic tonight.”

“She’s neurotic every night,” I say under my breath as the door to the Holly Woods Inn opens.

Oooh, goodie. I hope that’s Nonna. Just to break the tension, you know? It’s like having a political conference in here two days before an election. Or two teenage girls fighting over the same hot jock.

It isn’t Nonna, but I’m not exactly upset at the arrival. Gianna Moretti sweeps through the room, garnering the attention of half the men she passes as she heads for us. She looks anything but happy—is that part of her costume though? Everything on the woman is black, including the wings on her back.

She also looks frazzled. Very frazzled. Her hair isn’t as smooth as usual, her dark eyes are clouded with annoyance, and there’s a tiny bit of red lipstick missing from her lower lip, as though she’s bitten a piece of skin off and forgotten to touch it up. I’ve rarely seen her like this, but she has enough Italian blood in her that God help anyone who pisses her off now.

“Are you all right, Mom?” Drake’s eyebrows draw together as Gianna approaches us and plasters a smile on her lips.

“Of course.” She kisses his cheek then leans across him to kiss mine. “How are you,
cara
? Preparing for your funeral, I see?”

I grin. She knows what’s up.

“Trying to give the old bat a heart attack to remind her she won’t live forever.”

“Of course, of course.” She glances over her shoulder.

“Mom, are you sure you’re okay?” Drake asks.

“I’m fine. Just a little flustered with this dang dress. That’s all.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

“Let’s get a drink.” Drake puts his beer bottle on the table behind me and hooks Gianna’s hand through his elbow.

Before she can protest, he sweeps her off toward the bar, although it doesn’t stop her quiet murmur of annoyance.

“Damn,” Jason whistles, watching as she goes. “Is it me, or do Italians age really, really well?”

I slap his arm. “Stop that. You’re about to be on a date with my best friend. I will put my Louboutin up your ass.”

“I’m hearing that so often that I’m starting to think it’ll never happen.” A smile stretches across his handsome face.

“If you’re hearing it that often, then it means you’re a giant brat.” My smile matches his, but my eyes don’t linger on him for long. My gaze finds its way over his shoulder to where Drake and Gianna are standing at the bar. They’re discussing something animatedly but quietly, and she keeps looking over him, toward the door.

“What are you thinking?” Jason asks me quietly, following my line of sight.

I catch a glimpse of my flame-haired best friend as she leaves the bathroom and joins Drake and Gianna at the bar. “Nothing. Not really,” I half lie.

Technically, I’m not thinking. I’m feeling—and I’m not feeling good.

My stomach is tight, like it’s waiting for a bomb to drop somewhere, and my heart thumps erratically and loud three times. It feels like…a warning.

“Then what are you feeling?”

“How do you know I’m feeling anything?” I bring my glass to my lips and drink.

“Like you, I’m trained. I also watched you a lot during the case with Eddie. You get a look in your eye when you’re feeling something you don’t want to feel.”

“I just feel…unsettled,” I admit.

God, it feels so good to have said those words out loud. The tightness in my stomach recedes until it’s bearable once more.

“Yeah,” Jason says quietly, turning back to me. “Me too.”