It was hard to describe but, put simply, he was magnetic.
He never gave a hint that he was who he was. Actually, I thought he was a cop not a DEA agent. Still, I did what I could.
It wasn’t much. I would just, say, leave my father’s keys lying around when I knew he was going to be out of the house for awhile but that Hector would be around. Then I’d notice the keys gone for an hour then back right where they were before. Then I’d get in my father’s secret safe (he gave me the combo) and I’d take out files or books and I’d set them in locked file cabinet drawers, drawers to which Hector had the keys. I’d lay them right on top (a time saver). I’d wait then go back and put them where they were supposed to be.
Once, when I overheard something I thought would be useful, I even left a note in what I thought of as “Our Drawer”. When I went back, it was gone and I knew my father didn’t take it, he was playing golf.
The note was kind of stupid not to mention playing with fire. My father could have found the note. He wouldn’t have suspected me (I typed it out on my computer). He knew I would never, never do anything like that to him. But he would have gone through his workforce and someone would have gotten the blame.
I never did that again, by the way.
In the meantime, I tried to show Hector the cold shoulder. I really did, honestly. For months I was what I knew all my father’s men and all the society boys and all my father’s colleagues called me, the “Ice Princess”.
No, it was not original but it was effective.
I was Pure Chill to Hector like I was to everyone else.
Then, one night, I melted.
I blamed lemon drops.
I’d gone out and had way too many lemon drops. They tasted like candy. I forgot they had so much vodka in them.
When I got home after a night with “the girls” (my semi-friends or, at least, the women my father wanted me to hang out with which was to say the women who enhanced his reputation – what could I say, everyone around my father had a job, that was one of mine), I’d been drunk.
I heard noise coming from my father’s study. It was late and the house was dark but this was not strange. My father worked odd hours. So I thought it was my father in the study.
I went to say goodnight like any good, dutiful daughter would do. Being a dutiful daughter was another one of my jobs and I did it both publically and privately. I didn’t have the courage to get on my father’s bad side not even behind closed doors. I knew what he was capable of, my mother didn’t leave for no good reason, trust me.
But it was Hector in my father’s study. Looking back, he was probably in there for reasons my father would frown on, frown on so much he’d have ordered Hector’s murder. No kidding, what did I say about my father’s bad side? I was being very serious.
I was too drunk to think twice about what I was doing. Not to mention I fancied that I was half in love with Hector (in the very, very back of my mind, the only place I let my true thoughts free).
Seeing as I was three sheets to the wind, the very, very back of mind was at the forefront for one shining moment. This allowed me to do something I rarely, rarely did.
I acted on impulse.
I threw myself at him.
And Hector caught me.
He didn’t even hesitate. I was all over him, he was all over me. We’d exchanged nothing but civilized pleasantries for months and that night, in my father’s study, we went at each other like animals in heat.
I think it went like this:
Me (with tilty head and stupid smile, all the while unsteadily walking toward him): “Hi.”
Hector (with cocked head and a small grin playing at his fantastic mouth as he watched me unsteadily walk toward him): “You okay?”
Me: “I will be when you kiss me.”
Oh God, just thinking about it makes me cringe but then again, it worked.
That was it. I had made it to him and was sliding my arms around his neck as I told him to kiss me. I pressed my body to his and he kissed me.
It was fantastic. It was so hot I couldn’t believe I didn’t melt on the spot. He was good with his hands, his tongue, his mouth, even his teeth.
Almost as good, he seemed to think I was good with those things too.
After awhile, he had me against the wall, my skirt up around my hips, his hand in my panties cupping my behind. His other arm was wrapped tight around my waist. Both were pulling me in deep, pressing me close to his hard hips. His mouth was at my neck, mine was at his, both my hands in his t-shirt, running up the hot skin of his back.
I didn’t think that it was tacky (my father would have thought it was tacky). I didn’t think anything. I couldn’t think anything. My entire mind was centered on Hector and what he was doing to me and how much I liked it.
Then Hector said, his voice a low, hoarse rumble against my neck, “I’ve been waitin’ months for you to get in the mood to go slumming.”
It was like someone had shoved me in a bath filled with ice.
He thought I was nothing but a society slut out for a quick, drunken fuck with the hired help.
I didn’t know what I was expecting. But for some reason, some incredibly insane reason, I expected more from him. The fact he didn’t give it to me cut through me like a blade.
I put my hands to his shoulders and pushed him away. I stared at him, eyes at Chill Factor Sub-Zero as I calmly pulled my skirt down.
Then I put all my effort into walking away without falling on my drunken face. That would kill any chance at a brilliant exit and at that moment I really needed to make a brilliant exit.
To my surprise, before I could make it three steps, I found strong fingers wrapped around my upper arm and I was jerked around to face Hector.
“Where you goin’?” he asked, his hair sexy and messy (because it was made that way by my hands), his black eyes glittering dangerously even as they were still hot on me.
I looked at his hand then back in his eyes, my heart was beating wildly but I ignored it (I had loads of practice at that too).
“Get your hand off me.” My voice was pure ice.
He let me go instantly.
I kept staring at him and I didn’t know why.
No, if I was honest, I did know why. I wanted to say something. I wanted to explain. I wanted him to know that who he saw was not me. I wanted him to know that it was all show, all an act, all because I was scared of my own, fucking father. All because I was scared of letting anyone close so they wouldn’t get the chance to hurt me. That I was really someone else. I didn’t know who but I thought maybe she was nice. Maybe she could be funny if given a chance. Maybe she could be interesting. Maybe she could laugh once in awhile. Maybe, if someone helped her to be free, maybe she could be someone worth something.
I wanted above anyone I’d ever met (outside Daisy) to say this to Hector Chavez. I didn’t know why, I just did.
While I was trying to find a way to explain, he spoke.
“Lotta things I thought you were; a fuckin’ cock tease wasn’t one of them.”
The way he said it told me that the things he thought I was were just slightly better than being a cock tease.
I turned around and walked away.
Six months later, I sat behind my father’s defense table and watched Hector, cleaned up and wearing a suit (and looking good by the way), as he testified against my father.
I didn’t just watch Hector testify, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Hector didn’t even look at me.
He had no idea I was not there as the doting daughter providing moral support to her wayward father which I pretended I was.
No, I was there to make certain sure my father went down.
I wanted to be certain sure so I could finally, finally, finally be free.
I didn’t take my life in my hands feeding Hector information on my father for nothing.
I had no idea I wouldn’t be free. I had no idea that the shark-infested waters into which I’d b
een born, paddled in happily and unwittingly as a child and treaded water in warily as an adult, were far more dangerous without my father running interference.
I had no idea.
“Lee’ll see you now,” Shirleen said and my head snapped up.
I was so stuck in my memory of Hector, I hadn’t even noticed that the room had cleared; the only ones left were me and Shirleen. The phone had even rung; she was placing it back in the cradle and avoiding my eyes.
I stood and hesitated, waiting for her to come around the desk to show me to Nightingale. I had a fleeting thought that I might say something nice to her. Tell her she had pretty eyes, or… something. Make her see I wasn’t the Ice Princess, make her see me.
She started packing up, dumping fingernail polish, her cell phone and other flotsam and jetsam into her big (really cool, I thought, but would never have the courage to say) Louis Vuitton bag. Therefore she wasn’t going to escort me to “Lee”.
Without looking at me, she said, “Through the door, I’ll buzz you in. His office is first on the right. Knock before goin’ in.”
There you go. I lost my chance to be nice.
So be it.
I walked across the room to the inner door. She buzzed as I took another deep breath, opened it and walked through.
* * * * *
“What can I do for you Ms. Townsend?” Liam Nightingale asked me.
I was trying not to hyperventilate.
I was supposed to be meeting with Nightingale. Just Liam Nightingale.
I walked into the room and Hector was there, sitting on the side of the desk, one leg up, cowboy-booted foot dangling, one leg straight, cowboy-booted foot on the floor.
One sight of him and I nearly swooned (I’m not kidding). Thank God loads of practice stopped me from doing that.
I walked into the office and tried to think of some lesson my father taught me about people’s motivations. My only conclusion was that Nightingale was telling me where his loyalties lie. If I had some wild plan of vengeance against Hector to put into motion, Nightingale was having no part in it. There were going to be no secrets and nothing behind closed doors. Hector was going to be involved and would hear what I had to say and I had no choice in the matter.
It took a good deal out of me but I just looked at Hector and slightly lifted my chin. At this, his eyes grew dark and if he could have curled his lip in disgust, I knew he would.
I had loads of practice at ignoring that kind of response too.
I shook Nightingale’s hand, he told me to call him Lee, I told him to call me Sadie then I sat in front of his desk and he sat behind it.
Then he’d asked what he could do for me, “Ms. Townsend”, even though I told him to call me Sadie.
My father would read a lot into that and I did too.
Lee was telling me this was a formal arrangement. Very formal.
I hated being called “Ms. Townsend” mainly because my father’s real name was “Tuttle’. It wasn’t a great name but it was real and didn’t sound like some stupid, made up name of a romance hero. But also because I never felt like “Ms. Townsend”. People had been calling me that since I was six (mostly servants, lackeys and henchmen).
I felt like I was Sadie. I had no idea who Sadie was but Sadie sounded, to me, like someone you’d want to know.
Ms. Townsend sounded like someone you wanted to avoid.
“I’d like to hire your agency,” I told Lee, trying to blank out the fact that Hector was still sitting silent on the side of Lee’s desk. He was looking at me, I saw him out of my peripheral vision but I also felt his eyes on me. This might sound stupid but it was true.
“Why do you need the services of a detective agency?” Lee asked.
“I don’t need the services of a detective agency. I need security. I need a bodyguard,” I answered.
The air in the room changed. From the minute I walked in it had been even less welcoming than in the reception area, mainly because Hector was there. Now it went weirdly… electric.
“Why do you need a bodyguard?” Lee asked.
“I’m not safe,” I responded.
“Why aren’t you safe?” Lee persevered.
Oh damn.
If it had just been Lee, I still would have had trouble explaining this. There was no way I could explain it with Hector there too. How did I say it without sounding like I thought I was the end all be all of beauty, grace and all things feminine?
I couldn’t exactly say, “Well, Lee, you know… when a crime lord goes down, unfortunately the crime doesn’t go away. Instead, there’s a war to see who will be the new king. For now, Ricky Balducci won that war. And Ricky Balducci is a lunatic. And now his three brothers and him are intent on acting out their version of a Shakespearean play by doing what they can to tear each other down in order to obtain the throne. Somehow, being the dead king’s princess, I’m caught up in this mess because Ricky isn’t the only Balducci brother who’s a lunatic. They’re all lunatics. And they’ve got it in their head that the one true king has me at his side and they’ll stop at nothing, nothing, to get me by their side. I have no family, I have no friends, I have no one but me to protect me against four insane brothers and I’m absolutely, utterly, completely terrified.”
Instead, I said, “I don’t know how to explain it…” This was true, as you could see, it was hard to explain. “I just don’t feel safe.”
“You’ll have to give me something more to go on, Ms. Townsend,” Lee said to me.
My hands curled into fists in my lap so tight, my nails dug into my palms rather painfully. This was the only reaction I showed to the possibility that this wasn’t going very well. I knew Lee couldn’t see my hands, what I didn’t know was that Hector could.
“I’ll double your fee.” As my father would say, if you meet with resistance, try throwing money at it first.
“Doubling my fee isn’t going to lighten my caseload,” Lee replied.
Oh my.
That was not good news.
Lee was opening a drawer; he sorted through it and took out a card.
“I’m not taking on any new clients right now. If this was an urgent situation, we’d consider it. Since it’s just a feeling, I’m sorry but I’ll have to refer you to Dick Anderson.”
He stood and rounded the desk. I stared at him again concentrating on not hyperventilating.
He couldn’t say no. He was the best in the business. Everyone knew about him and the Nightingale Men. They could keep me safe.
I didn’t know Dick Anderson. Dick Anderson sounded like the name of a TV private eye. I didn’t want a wisecracking TV private eye who wore Hawaiian shirts or forgot to shave. I wanted scary but handsome Nightingale Men who’d put the fear of God into you by just cracking their knuckles.
I stood as Lee made it to my chair.
“Lee, please, reconsider,” I said, looking up at him, using his given name, trying to take the formality out of it, wondering how I could explain without sounding like a moron or a conceited Daddy’s little rich bitch.
He was super-tall then again, since I was five foot five, even in four inch heels, most men were taller than me.
“I’m sorry Ms. Townsend,” Lee said.
That’s when I lost it, lost control for the briefest moment because, truly, not kidding, the Balducci brothers were scaring me out of my mind. I knew something was going to happen, I knew it.
I leaned forward just a bit and couldn’t stop myself from whispering, “Please.”
Something flickered in Lee’s eyes; they looked over my shoulder at Hector for an instant then back to me.
“Call Dick,” he said with finality but his voice, which had been professional and cordial but slightly cold, had become a bit warmer and softer but a warmer and softer voice meant nothing to me in my current predicament. “He’s a good man,” Lee finished.
I looked at him for one second then two. Then I nodded and turned.
I took two steps and stopped.
H
ector was standing and staring down on me. He’d lost the disgusted look and his face was now just blank.
He looked good. Still rough but more handsome than ever.
I’d never have the chance again and even though I didn’t know what came over me (maybe it was the specter of The Real Sadie bursting out for a moment), I looked Hector in the eye and said with genuine feeling, “I hope you’re well, Hector.”
Then I looked away, squared my shoulders and left.
Chapter One
Peace
Sadie
I turned my black, convertible Mercedes SLK into the parking garage under the Nightingale Investigations offices and swiped again at my eyes thus swerving again and barely missing the wall before I righted the car.
I had no idea how I got there, maybe a mixture of luck and adrenalin.
I had no idea why I even went there except it was close to my apartment. Not to mention, I was together enough to know I couldn’t go to the police. Also not to mention, it was in my mind since I’d been there that very afternoon.
But really, who cared? I was there. It was as good a place as any.
My car was a mess, I’d hit a couple of things on the way, I didn’t know what. I felt the bumps, heard the crunching and scrapes but I just kept going.
I didn’t park. I stopped on a screech of tires when I saw the door leading to the stairs. I couldn’t wait for the elevator, Ricky could be right behind me not to mention, I wasn’t sure I could stand.
I threw open my car door and just that took a lot out of me. So much that when I tried to get out, I fell forward on all fours (or all threes, as that was all the extremities I had working for me at that moment) to the concrete floor.
This took a lot out of me too. So much that I threw up right there. I couldn’t see much, the sweat and blood were stinging my swelling eyes but I could see there was blood mixed with the bile on the pavement. I could also see my manicure was ruined which pretty much stunk but at that moment it was the least of my worries.
Rock Chick Regret Page 2