The three men they had were dead.
Dead men couldn’t talk.
But their wives could.
They just weren’t.
Goddammit.
“So we’re in a holding pattern,” Boone stated impatiently. “But we suspect that whatever these assholes are up to, it isn’t long term. It’s a limited project. And they’re close to sealing the deal. So the longer we wait, the longer they’ve got to do that.”
None of the men said anything because there was no point in confirming what they all suspected.
In finding out from Cisco that they didn’t attempt to frame him for the first murder (that being Tony Crowley, good cop doing his own investigation into dirty ones) in order to get Cisco out of the way to take over his operations, the team was running with the theory that whatever was going down was one big score.
But at this point, everything was a theory, because, again, they had dick.
“Next moves?” Mag asked Hawk.
“We wait,” Hawk answered.
None of the men were at one with that but none of them said anything because they didn’t have a choice.
“If it lasts longer than tomorrow, I’ll get Mamá to apply some pressure to Lynn and Heidi. Not to freak them. Just to show them the way,” Hawk continued.
With nothing more to discuss, Hawk dismissed them.
Axl didn’t take long in saying good-bye to his buds.
He had an early reservation and not a lot of time to enjoy it before Hattie had to be at Smithie’s.
He headed home. Let himself in. Called to Cleo, who ignored him. Got his mail and ignored that. He then took a shower, with Cleo sitting outside the shower door, watching. He got out of the shower, which, as usual, sent Cleo scurrying.
He shaved, pulled a comb through his hair, picked a pair of dark gray trousers, a blue shirt and black shoes, and while he grabbed his wallet, phone and keys, Cleo showed some love, weaving through his ankles.
She did this mostly because she knew he was leaving, and it was an inconvenient time to give it.
She was like that.
So he picked her up, scratched her in one of precisely five places she liked to be scratched, under her chin (the others were behind her ears, her tailbone, her chest, and when she deigned to cuddle, she demanded tummy rubs).
She started purring, but he had to go, so he forced a kiss on her nose which got him the stink eye.
He put her down, smiling, nabbed his lint roller, dealt with the remains of his cat on his shirt, and then headed out to his Jeep.
Sitting in it, he texted Hattie that he was on his way, texted Sly that he was off duty, pulled out of his garage and drove to Hattie’s.
And he did it trying hard not to slam his fist into the roof of his Jeep like a douchebag because he felt the deep need to celebrate the fact that his ass was in his car on his way to Hattie’s to pick her up for a date.
Fucking finally.
He found a parking spot relatively close and hoofed it to her front door.
She didn’t make him wait, opening it almost immediately, beaming up at him and saying, “I’m ready! I just have to shove a couple of things into my bag that I forgot.”
She then whirled on one very high heel, the very short skirt of her dress flying out and up so he could almost see panties, and Axl didn’t move because he had to concentrate on fighting getting hard.
When he managed this feat, doing it even knowing not only did they not have time to take it there after their date since she had to get to work, but also he didn’t intend to take them there at all until he knew they were ready (mostly her on that, he was ready to fuck her about two months ago), he walked in.
He found her down in her bedroom area, doing something with a bag on her bed, babbling.
“It was hard to pack. I know you guys are good at what you do, so it won’t take long for you to catch this jerk, but maybe it will. I’ve got rehearsals every day. And obviously I need regular clothes.” She looked his way. “Can I borrow your teeth-strengthening mouthwash? I’ll buy you a new bottle later. But we have the same brand so it kinda seems stupid to pack mine.”
He had no clue why she had to put the “teeth-strengthening” part before the word “mouthwash.”
But it was cute.
As she was on a regular basis.
He would not have pegged himself as a cute-girl guy. His leanings had always been toward tall, cool, slender blondes. And as such, when Lottie made her choices for all the boys, and he got a look at Hattie, he knew this wasn’t going to happen.
He was seeing now it never worked out with those tall, cool, slender blondes, not because there was anything wrong with them.
But because he was about curvy women of just above average height who had a mass of loose, brunette curls, big brown eyes, a frustrating instinct for self-preservation, could soar through the air five feet above the ground with the grace of a gazelle and were cute.
Also, one more thing.
A woman who was able to select adorable, even girlie dresses that she wore like she was in jeans and a tee and it made her a thousand percent fuckable.
“You can borrow whatever you want,” he told her.
His voice was not the usual.
It was lower, rougher, and it made her head jerk his way again.
“Are you okay?”
Outside of needing—very badly—to fuck her in that dress?
Yeah.
He was okay.
Though the need was so strong, and now she was standing by a bed, he was just barely okay.
“Fine, baby, but we got a reservation and it isn’t like we’re flying to my place in Aspen. We can come get anything you forgot whenever we need to do that,” he told her.
“Oh, right,” she replied, her gaze drifting to her bag. It came back to him and she asked, “You have a place in Aspen?”
He grinned at her. “Sorry, no.”
She grinned back, returned her attention to her packing, seemed to make a decision, finished shoving whatever in her bag and started to zip up.
Axl took that as his cue to move from where he was standing, at the top of the two steps, down into the space.
Her bedroom area had wood floors. White walls. White furniture.
Also, a white comforter.
Pale pink sheets on the bed. Dark pink throw pillows.
There were white vases with fluffy fake flowers in them in vibrant colors. She obviously read, because there were stacked books on the floor under her legged nightstands. And an eReader with a hot-pink cover sat on a night table.
The space was small. She’d utilized it well. And the way she decorated, as he’d found earlier that day, was feminine and kickass.
He reached beyond her to grab the strap of her big overnighter and hefted it on his shoulder.
Fuck, it felt like it weighed fifty pounds.
“Set up to stay awhile?” he teased.
“It’s shoes,” she replied, grinning and reaching for a canvas book bag that said FORTNUM’S USED BOOKS.
She scooted quickly to the nightstand, grabbed the eReader, pushed it in the bag, and put it on her shoulder.
Her bare shoulder, seeing as she was wearing a dress that was mushroom colored and it dropped down the sides of her shoulders, hugging her upper arms. It had long flowy sleeves and a wide, flirty ruffle at the short hem. It was belted with a thin belt in the same fabric.
She wore nothing else but earrings, those were big gold hoops.
And on her feet, she wore a pair of sandals that looked to be made with nothing but gold string crossing her foot and wrapping around her ankle. The heel was high and thin.
And yeah, he was fucking her in those shoes too.
She grabbed the last thing from the bed, a muted gold clutch, before she led the way up out of her bedroom space, and he waited at the door as she turned off lights and joined him.
Then he got her and her bags in his car and he did this hoping that she had to use the restroom
while they were at dinner so he could watch her walk away in that dress.
She waited until he pulled out before she asked, “Where are we going?”
“Beatrice and Woodsley.”
He felt her eyes on him. “You got a reservation at BW in a day?”
“Lucked out,” he muttered, and he did. There’d been a cancellation right before he called in. “You been there?” he asked.
“Once, a few years ago, for Galentine’s Day with my mom.”
“Galentine’s?”
“The day before Valentine’s. It’s just for girls.”
“I know what it is, but I thought it was for friends.”
“My mom’s my friend.”
He was glad to hear that, considering her dad was such shit.
“She was a good mom too, Axl,” she went on.
“I’m glad, honey,” he murmured.
“I think there was a time, after I graduated from high school, where she got kind of messed up. Wondering why she picked him. Worried about what he’d done to me and what that would mean later. I still think she worries. But she sorted herself out. We got into being mom and daughter friends, not just mom and daughter, which is way cool.” Pause before she added, “She’s also started dating in the last couple of years. She’s gone on some vacations with friends. I think she’s finally getting over him and what he did to our family.”
Good news.
“You cool with her dating?” he asked.
“Definitely,” she stated, a chirp in her voice that not only underlined her word, it was fucking adorable. “I want her to be happy. I don’t think she’s been happy for a long time. I don’t think she’s happy now, not really. But I want her to find that.”
“Why don’t you think she’s happy now?”
“Well,” she began. “Your mom was driven and should never have stopped working. My mom wanted a husband, a home and family. It wasn’t like she wasn’t down to work to provide. To work to have her time and her space and her thing for herself. She likes her work. But my aunt told me she’d always been boy crazy. Said she went kinda nuts when she didn’t have a boyfriend.”
She stopped speaking, so Axl glanced at her to see she was gazing out the windshield, looking reflective.
Before he could say anything, though, she spoke again.
“And Aunt Pam said Mom used to talk, not about her dream of a big wedding, but her dream of a big house with husband and kids and stuff. Aunt Pam and Uncle Dave call Dad the Big Imposter. They said he was a charmer. They all fell for it. No one had his ticket. Until after the deed was done, her signature was on the marriage certificate and it was tougher for her to get out.”
“That why you’re an only child?” he guessed.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “It was Mom who told me that. Once we became mom and daughter friends.”
Her last was said with a smile in her voice, so he glanced at her again and saw it was also on her face.
Pretty all the time.
Smiling?
Gorgeous.
He looked back at the road and she kept talking.
“She wanted more kids. She just didn’t want more kids with him. And I think she wanted to leave way before she actually did. But they got pregnant within a year of the wedding. It was a time she still had hope that he wasn’t what he was seeming to be. Or she thought it was just youth and she’d train him to be a better husband. But …”
She trailed off.
Then again, she didn’t have to say any more.
“Think my mom put it off, having more kids,” he told her, seeing as she didn’t end what she was saying sounding like she was smiling. So he took his turn in order to turn her mind. “Thought she’d get back to work. And then she didn’t.”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
“In the end, it was more Dad didn’t want another kid. If they had more kids, he’d have less of her attention, and less of it to take up with all the shit he thought she was supposed to be doing. And what Dad wants, Dad gets.”
“Yeah,” she repeated, just as softly.
Definitely the smile was gone from her voice.
He reached her way and she gave him what he wanted, her hand.
When he had it, he said, “This is a bummer. Let’s have a bummer-free zone for the rest of our first date.”
She let out a cute laugh and said, “That works for me.”
And except for him telling her they’d set up cameras, and he had to let his guys into her pad to check for prints, and she’d have to give him her laptop and her two exes’ names so they could run them, that was where they kept it.
Mostly it was Hattie talking about her day with Sly. How much he liked hanging at rehearsal (not a surprise). How much he didn’t like helping her pick out her dress for that night (definitely not a surprise, no man would see that dress and like not being the one who was on the date with her, though it was hilarious, thinking about Sly sitting there while Hattie showed him dresses).
Last, how she thought it was weird, everyone involved with Brett seemed so cool when he was a self-described “motherfucker.”
This was where they were at when Axl found a parking spot not close, but not far from Beatrice & Woodsley. Though, it was closer than walking there from his house, which was what he’d normally do since the restaurant was in his ’hood and they didn’t only serve great food, but they had excellent cocktails. He wasn’t a regular, though he was no stranger.
But after he shut the Jeep down, instead of getting out, he turned to her
“First, honey, do not get caught in this fairy godfather gig Cisco has going on. He is absolutely a motherfucker.”
Her face fell and he hated that.
But he was not lying, and men like Cisco had three paths: they got caught and went to prison, they got dead, and for the rare, they retired.
Axl wanted to protect her from the first two, and he wasn’t fired up about Cisco—doing what he did—being in her life whatever time it took him if he was destined to make it to the last one.
“He seems nice,” she said.
“He likes you. If he didn’t like you, you would one hundred percent not say that.”
She rubbed her lips together.
He continued talking.
“But that’s a bummer. So we’re moving on. The second thing you gotta know before we get out of my car is that dress, Hattie … ” He allowed his eyes to wander down then up again, and looking in her pretty brown eyes done up for him, her big mass of long, dark curly hair framing her face and falling all over her bare shoulders, he finished, his voice gruffer, “You look beautiful in that dress, baby.”
“Thank you.”
There was something deep in those two words, deeper than normal when receiving a compliment.
Heavy.
But he had a feeling, if he tried to tease it out, knowing it probably had to do with the fact her father treated her like garbage, it’d be a bummer for the both of them, so he asked, “I open doors for women. You got a problem with that?”
She smiled. “One hundred percent no.”
He returned her smile, added leaning her way to touch his lips to her neck, getting the scent of her perfume, which was girlie and flowery, but subtle, and as with everything that was Hattie, he liked it.
He got out, moved around the hood of the car, helped her out and walked with her toward the restaurant.
Baker District was hip. Nighttime, it could get busy.
Once he tucked Hattie’s hand through his arm, spreading her fingers over his biceps, keeping his over hers, she took his cue and walked close to him. Her shoulder to his. Her hip brushing his. Her perfume doing a number on him.
That was when he noticed it.
People looking at them as they passed.
He knew what they saw.
He liked what they saw.
He got off on what they saw.
Like his dad, Axl had gone prematurely silver in his late twenties.
His father called
it the Pantera Curse.
Axl thought it was the shit, being twenty-seven and people treating him like he was forty-five.
Then again, except in the army, and after, he hadn’t been shown a lot of respect by people who were meaningful in his life.
When he’d shared with his father it didn’t bother him, Sylas Pantera said, “Kid, you never want to lose the advantage. Not with anyone. You want them underestimating you. Not the other way around.”
First, Axl hated his dad calling him “kid.”
It wasn’t a nickname, familiar and loving. It was said to put him in his place, even if, when they’d had this conversation, if he recalled, Axl had been twenty-nine, and he still called him that, and Axl was thirty-four.
So yeah, he hated that.
And second, Axl did not view life as one competition after another.
He wanted people to be honest with him. He wanted them to respect him. He expected to give that first back at all times, earn the last, and return it if it was deserved.
So now, he knew the feeling he felt with the people glancing their way as they passed them, Axl walking with a beautiful woman in a sexy-as-fuck dress and arguably sexier shoes to a nice restaurant, knowing that woman on his arm was adorable, talented, loyal and a fighter.
That feeling was, he’d earned this.
He’d earned her.
And it felt fucking great.
His life philosophy in action.
Aim high.
And excel.
They went into the restaurant, were seated and given menus.
Hattie ordered BW’s rum-based Butter Beer cocktail (and he totally could have called that, for fuck’s sake, Butter Beer?—fucking adorable). He got the rye-based Edward Henry Masterman.
And the second the server wandered away after they’d ordered, she pressed into him where they sat thigh to thigh at the back of a curved booth, and she whispered in the direction of his ear, “It’s so romantic here.”
He pulled back a couple inches, caught her eyes but said nothing.
Still, she heard him, and he knew it when her lashes dipped, he sensed she was about to pull away, and then she seemed to make a conscious decision not to.
She lifted her gaze to him.
And knowing she’d just beat back the shyness, the instinct to retreat, Axl felt deserved a reward.
Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3) Page 13