House Of Payne: Twist

by Stacy Gail

  “Not really,” Angel muttered beside him.

  “Look, you don’t have to act like the world is coming to an end, all right? I’ll pull a double tomorrow to make up for lost time, so reschedule whoever was coming in today, and I’ll work until my hand goes numb.”

  “Just what everyone wants in a tattoo artist—a numb hand that can’t feel what it’s doing,” Angel continued to offer, and he sent her glower that he hoped was strong enough to temporarily cut off her ability to speak.

  “Angel? Yeah, she’s better today, but she’s not better. You should probably let her clients know she won’t be around for the remainder of the week, just to play it safe.”

  “Considering that I quit last night, I’m not going to be around for a lot longer than that.”

  At that, he cupped a hand over the phone. “Will you shut the hell up? You did not quit, you just had a bad attitude during a Monday from hell. But it’s done now, so you need to suck it up and get over it.” Then he turned his attention back to the phone. “No Scout, you can’t talk to Angel, because she’s still not right in the head. Like, really not right.”

  “Screw you,” Angel snapped, her voice rising. “Scout, you know that I quit last night and I’m never, ever, ever coming back, right?”

  “See? Not right in the head at all. Yeah, talk to you later.” He touched the screen and threw it back into the console. “Scout hopes you feel better soon, and she can’t wait to see your sweet and smiling face back at work. Now let’s get this stupid shit out of the way so I can get you back home and resting like you should be.”

  Her delicate chin thrust forward, something that always happened when she was pissed—and it happened a lot when she was with him. All things considered, he much preferred her smile. “Why is it you never pay attention to me?”

  “Holy crap, are you serious?” He couldn’t help but laugh as he opened the car door. “Jesus, that might be the most hilarious thing you’ve ever said.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that of all the people in my life, Angel, you’re the one person I pay the most attention to.”

  Still laughing, he climbed out of the car, leaving silence in his wake.

  “The inspector’s gone with the assurance that the house could stand another hundred years.” Angel found Twist in the front parlor, the gleaming hardwood floor popping beneath her feet. The familiar sound filled her with cozy warmth as she settled onto a couch that was covered in clear plastic and masking tape—no doubt her mother’s attempt at dust-proofing it. To her right, Twist ran a finger down the keys of the baby grand that had sat in the semicircular multi-paned bow window ever since she could remember. “And while the kitchen and office are all mid-pack train wrecks, the rest of the house is neatly wrapped up. It should only take me through the weekend to get everything boxed up and ready for the movers on Monday. That’s also when the handyman and painters are scheduled to come in and go over this place to make it like new. After that, the house will be officially put on the market.”

  His finger paused on a key—the G, if her hearing was as in tune as it used to be—before he turned to study her. “Somehow I doubt packing up a house was what the doctor meant when he said for you to rest.” When she merely shrugged, because she knew he was right, he sighed and hit the G key again. “You really grew up here?”

  She looked around the mostly empty room, with its antique mullioned windows, hand-carved wood paneling and brass wall sconces. “I guess I don’t look the part, do I?”

  “Nah, you do. You’ve always had a princess vibe going on.”

  Like magic, his comment chased away the unexpected warmth of being home again as if it had never been. Her mouth tightened and she looked up at the vaulted ceiling, determined not to snap the head off of the man who had—for reasons known only to him—put his life on hold to take care of her.

  But oh, how she wanted to.

  “Hey.” Suddenly he appeared in her view, right in front of her. When she looked away, he bent over and leaned his hands on the back of the couch on either side of where her head rested. “Angel, look at me.”

  A frantic flutter of alarm kicked off with his face so close to hers, and as the depthless black of his eyes held her pinned to the spot, she couldn’t help but remember the silk-over-steel sensation of his lips at the hospital. Of all the things her fuzzy brain had forgotten over the past twenty-four hours, why did it still remember their kiss like it had just happened? “I am looking at you.”

  “Being a princess doesn’t always mean being a spoiled brat, okay? You don’t always have to be so defensive with me.”

  Geez. “How can you accuse me of being defensive when I didn’t say anything?”

  “It’s obvious you thought I was taking a swipe at you, because you’ve got it in your head that I’m your enemy.” His voice dipped into a deep rumble, softening in a way that, for some reason, made her breath back up in her lungs. “But an enemy is the last thing I am to you, little girl. Not everything I say is a slam, I’ve shown you more respect throughout the years than you can possibly imagine, and I’ve never—ever—been out to get you.” He paused. “At least not in the way you think.”

  Her heart almost bounced out of her chest as every feminine instinct she had told her that his way of “getting” her was much more dangerous to her peace of mind than his merely being an enemy. Heavy silence pulsed between them as her perception of who she knew Twist to be danced on a knife’s edge. He was her tormentor, her Nemesis, the reason she no longer felt comfortable at the House.

  All of that didn’t change the fact that he was close enough to kiss.

  Again.

  And she was thinking about following that thought through with a hell of a lot of action.

  She pulled in her lips to save them from a temptation she didn’t want to acknowledge, and tried to remember her judgment-making abilities had been medically deemed as screwy. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me little girl?”

  “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll eventually figure out that at this point I’m never going to be broken of that habit.”

  “That’s your excuse? Habit?”

  “It’s no excuse, it’s the truth.” He didn’t move away, didn’t even seem to be aware that he’d invaded her personal space. He just kept looking into her eyes like he wanted to bend her to his will through his gaze alone, and as she looked up into his handsome face she could almost feel herself bending. “You were a kid when I first met you, after all. Just a cute little teenager wearing a shirt with Smurfette on it that said, ‘Let’s Smurf.’”

  She remembered that shirt. How strange that he did too. “That was a long time ago. I’m all grown up now.”

  If possible, the compelling power of his gaze intensified. “You sure about that?”

  “You sound like you want proof.”

  “Oh, now there’s an exciting idea.” His eyes began to smolder with such heat she wouldn’t have been surprised if he set off the fire alarms. Her ability to breathe trickled to a stop when his gaze dropped to her lips. “I would say kiss me to prove it, but…”

  She couldn’t look away from him. When had he gotten so damned beautiful? “But what?”

  “I don’t know if I should. When I kissed you at the hospital, it was like you barely knew what to do with your mouth.”

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  “Shut up.” Without giving another thought to her concussion-scrambled, less-than-sound judgment, she grabbed his face and brought it down to hers.

  Without a sound, her world exploded.

  A tidal wave of feedback pummeled her brain, so much so she could barely take it all in. His bristly scruff scraped her palms and chin as her mouth captured his. The feel of his lips was extraordinary, melding to hers like molten steel. It was delicious, that sensation of a perfect fit and the sizzling heat to seal it. That heat ratcheted up to a bone-melting level when the sweep of his tongue met the exploratory glide of hers, a sw
eet intimacy that felt like the most right thing in the world.

  A harsh sound broke deep in his throat at the first caress of her tongue, a reaction she knew instinctively he hadn’t been able to stifle. It thrilled her out of her mind. She liked knowing he liked the feel of her, the taste of her. In that moment she craved to fill him up so much with her kiss that he couldn’t help but make that sound again. And again. To have him look at her and know that from this moment on, something inside him would always make that sound.

  That thought alone rocked her world.

  One of her hands sifted through his hair without being consciously directed to do so, and she marveled at how her fingers tingled as they buried in its thickness. Maybe it was because she’d assumed his hair would be as wild as he was, but it was silky to the touch and she couldn’t get enough of it. Like the rest of him, it was beautiful, when a mere twenty-four hours ago she wouldn’t have admitted there was anything beautiful about him.

  What a difference a day made.

  His large hand came to cup her head, cradling it while taking obvious care not to press against the bump that was still tender to the touch. He angled her head upward while he slanted his mouth across hers in an angle that deepened the kiss. The care he took with her injury while at the same time cherishing her mouth with his touched a place deep inside her. Her pulse stuttered to an almost-painful standstill as his tongue came to duel with her, his hunger rising to become an almost palpable thing. It was so exquisite, that sensation, that she eagerly returned the cares of his tongue stroke for stroke, fueling the passion she sensed growing inside him. It was as if the chamber of her mouth had become his personal territory, and he was determined to claim all of it with everything he had.

  In that moment, she wanted him to.

  Her heart pounded like a jackhammer against her ribs as the fierce press of his mouth gentled. Eased. At last lifted altogether. Slowly she opened eyes she couldn’t recall closing, and her chest clenched when she found he was already staring down at her as if she was the last person he would ever see, his dark eyes burning with a hot chaos she understood all too well.

  The question was, now what?

  “I don’t want to stop kissing you.”

  The velvet rumble of his voice was unfamiliar, because it was the intimate purr of a lover. She couldn’t stop from shivering at the sound. “Why not?”

  The big hand cradling the back of her head slid down to her nape, squeezing in a gentle massage that felt so good it made her eyelids drift almost closed. “Because if I stop, I’m scared to death you’re going to bitch at me the way you usually do whenever we’re in each other’s company for more than five minutes.”

  Like a switch being thrown, the wild heat vanished. She pushed at his shoulders, while her rebellious mind brought up the memory of the sculpted muscles beneath her palms now separated from her touch by the thinnest veil of well-worn cotton.

  “No need to worry.” She offered a tight smile, grimly pleased with the coolness of her tone. It would have sucked if she’d sounded like the panting, hot mess she actually was. “Being the bitch that I am, I wasn’t planning on talking to you at all.”

  “Hey, I didn’t call you a bitch. I just pointed out—accurately, I might add—that you like to bitch at me. See the difference?” Her push barely moved him, and he dipped his head close to hers to smile that wicked smile that did weird things to her peace of mind. “But now that I know how you can kiss when you’re fully conscious, I’ll admit that I’m okay with your plan of not talking. That pretty mouth of yours just rocked my world in a way I’ve never had it rocked before, so now I’m thinking it should be used for kissing and other pleasurable pursuits, instead of constantly busting my chops.”

  “Believe me, busting your chops is a pleasurable pursuit.” Sliding to one side of the plastic-covered sofa she got to her feet, taking care not to trigger a head rush. “And now that I’ve proven I do know how to kiss, I need to get on with things that, you know, matter.”

  She was almost out of the room when his voice echoed to her.

  “When a man finds a woman who kisses him like she’s dying and he’s her cure, that becomes the only thing that matters, Angel. If you didn’t know that about men before, it’s my duty to teach that to you now. Your lessons begin today.”

  Chapter Six

  By the time Angel trudged up the neat concrete path toward her condo with Twist, she had to admit she was ready to forego dinner and fall directly into bed. She was so tired she didn’t even think to search for her house keys until they were almost at the door. Then she couldn’t remember when she had them last. Luckily Twist seemed to conjure them out of thin air just as she was patting down her pockets in a futile search.

  “Wait a minute.” She stared at him as he expertly selected the correct key and slid it into the lock. “How did you get my keys?”

  “Last night.” He seemed to think that was enough of an answer, but before she could question him further, she heard her name called. She turned and saw her next-door neighbor, Joey Verhaven wave before he stepped off his front stoop to cross the well-kept patch of grass separating their walkways.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Blond, buff and dressed like he’d just come from a meeting with The Conservative Caucus, Joey gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before his bespectacled attention zeroed in on Twist. “Everything okay? You’re usually at work when I get home on Tuesdays, aren’t you?”

  “What the hell, this guy knows your schedule?” Twist returned Joey’s frowning stare with one of his own, looking more like a thundercloud than any human had a right to. “Who are you?”

  “Twist, this is my neighbor and best friend, Joey Verhaven, victims’ rights lawyer, activist and all-around great guy,” Angel jumped in hastily, unsure why Twist had decided to ramp up the hostility to toxic levels, so she did her best to smooth any potential ruffled feathers. “Joey, this is Twist Santiago, a former coworker from House Of Payne.”

  “Former?” Joey’s brows quirked over the rims of his rectangular glasses as he reassessed Twist. “You’re no longer with the House?”

  She held up her hand. “I’m the one who doesn’t work at the House anymore, Joey. I quit last night.”

  “What?” Joey, bless him, looked devastated on her behalf. Since she’d known him and Novak for five years, they knew better than anyone how much that place meant to her. “Oh, Angel. Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine, because she didn’t quit last night,” Twist offered flatly, his gaze still about as welcoming as an arctic blast. “She did, however, get mugged and landed in the ER for several hours, so if you don’t mind I need to get her inside and resting quietly while I rustle up some food for her.”

  She shot him a quelling look. “Twist—”

  “Oh, my God.” In a heartbeat, Joey had her wrapped in a bear hug that smelled of fabric softener and expensive French aftershave. From day one, she’d adored Joey’s hugs, because they always smelled so good. “Are you all right, sweetheart? Why didn’t you call me? Or Novak? Wait, I know why you didn’t call him, he’s going to shit a metric ton of bricks when he hears about this. Even under normal circumstances, you know how he is about you being over here all on your own. After this I doubt I’ll be able to stop him from finally knocking out the wall that separates our condos.”

  “Joey, it was four in the morning—”

  “Angel didn’t need to call anyone, because she wasn’t on her own. I was here.” The moment Joey’s hold began to relax on her, Twist curled a hand around her elbow, pulled her bodily out of his arms and tucked her firmly to his side. “From the time I chased off the asshole who mugged her to this very second, she’s had me looking after her.”

  “It’s true,” she said, even though it galled her to admit it. But the fact was she doubted she could have gotten by without Twist’s help. “Even at my worst, Twist was right there with me the whole time. He helped me, and made me feel better just by being an arm’s reach away. So don’t worry
, okay? He’s done an amazing job of spoiling me with attention, I swear.”

  “Yeah?” For a long moment Joey studied them before he seemed to come to a conclusion, if the sudden nod of his head was any indication. “Okay then, I won’t worry since it looks like you’re in excellent—”

  “Joey? Where’re ya at, babe?” All three heads turned in the direction of the neighboring condo as Novak stepped out. As usual, even in jeans, beat-up high-tops and a long sleeved rugby shirt, Novak looked like he’d just walked off a photo shoot. Short, bronze-ish mahogany hair, square jaw, diamond-cut cheekbones and cognac colored eyes, the word stunning could have been invented just for him. Then he smiled when he caught sight of them, and ratcheted up his overall appearance to extraordinary. “Hey, this is a nice surprise. What’re you doing home while the sun’s still out, Ange?”

  “Don’t get excited,” Joey warned as his partner joined them. Angel almost laughed when he put an arm around Novak’s shoulders, a gesture that had more to do with restraining him than it did a PDA. “Angel’s fine, okay? Everything’s fine.”

  “Oh, my God.” In a heartbeat, Novak’s smile vanished under wide-eyed alarm. “What happened? Did anything happen? Are you hurt? Who hurt you? Who are you?” He shot a ferocious look at Twist, suddenly looking like a gladiator ready to tear off Twist’s arm so he could beat him to death with it. Twist, for his part, suddenly grinned and looked down at her.

  “Joey and Novak,” he murmured, giving her a squeeze. “The neighbors you wanted to call.”

  “The neighbors I wanted to call,” she agreed, dazzled by that sudden smile aimed right at her. She’d always thought that Novak’s smile was the world’s best, but when Twist chose to show it, his was a smile that could make angels fall.