by Mia Madison
“Oh, wow. What’s Firestorm doing here? This isn’t a biker hangout.”
The members spread out, seemingly intent on investigating every shadowed corner of the nightclub. And then I spot Wolf himself. He’s talking to Joey, who’s scowling.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask. Dani doesn’t answer. She’s busy tearing her cocktail napkin into tiny pieces. I frown. “Are you all right?”
Before she can answer, Wolf is standing in front of us. “Hey darlin’,” he says to me, and then, “Dani.”
Her chin comes up. “Reid.”
Holy crap. Is it my imagination or did the air just turn frosty? Wolf’s arms are folded, his unhappy eyes fixed on Dani. His mouth works as if he’s going to say something; then he turns and strides away.
I give my friend big eyes. “What was that?”
“He hates me.”
“Why? I didn’t even know you knew him.”
“I hardly do! I don’t think we’ve spoken more than fifty words to each other in my whole life. He’s just always like that with me.”
A whole array of light bulbs is starting to glow in my head. “Like what?” I say cautiously.
“All …” She waves her hand. “Stiff and formal. Like I kicked his puppy or something and he can never forgive me.”
I fight a smile. “You’ve got a thing for him.”
“I do not!”
“Dani.”
She drops what’s left of the napkin and buries her face in her hands. “I’m crazy, all right? You don’t have to tell me. Can you imagine me bringing him home? He’s got to be at least fifteen years older than me. Maybe twenty. And he’s not even Italian.”
“You know, it seems to me that a number of your relations have recently brought home younger women who weren’t Italian.”
“They’re men,” she says darkly. “Trust me, the rules are different for women.”
“Still,” I say. “From everything I’ve been told, your family is pretty welcoming.” I certainly hope it’s true, for my own sake.
“It doesn’t matter. He hates me.” Dani grabs her drink and takes a gulp.
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hate you.”
She thrusts a hand out toward the spot where Wolf was standing. “You heard him.”
“Does he ever call you anything but Dani?”
“No. Never.”
“Never smiles at you, or flirts with you …”
“Like he does with every other woman,” she finishes miserably. “No.”
“Dani.” I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “You’re not every other woman to him.”
“What?” Hope flares in her eyes before she shakes her head. “No. That’s just wishful thinking.”
“I don’t think so. Let me tell you about a conversation I had a few days ago.”
When I’m finished, she looks like I’ve just told her Christmas is going to happen every month from now on. “You and Rico? Oh my god! Aunt Carlotta is going to flip her lid.”
10
One Cousin To Another
“In a good way?” I couldn’t stand it if Rico’s mom didn’t like me. Given how close all the Adamos are, it would hurt so much if we didn’t get along.
“You’ve never met her? Okay, so, Tonio’s mom and Rico’s mom are sisters. And Tonio’s dad and Rico’s dad are brothers. So those two families, their kids are double cousins.”
“No wonder they all look so much alike.” I’ve often thought that Tonio and Rico could be brothers instead of cousins. I snag a french fry and savor the cheesy goodness.
“Right? So Carlotta looks a lot like Lucia, this tiny little woman — puts me in awe that she had all those gigantic babies. But just like Lucia, she’s got nerves of steel and an iron will. Total sweetheart, but had no problem riding herd on a pack of jumbo-sized boys and feisty girls.
“Anyway, she’ll love you. She’d love anyone who was right for Rico, but she’ll especially love you because you’re like her.”
“What do you mean?”
Dani grins at me. “You’re gentle on the outside, but strong on the inside. You care about people, but you don’t take any shit.”
“Aww, thanks.” I smile at her, then sober. “Don’t go getting too excited, though. First I have to get Rico to go along with us even being a thing.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “But don’t give up. After what he went through, we’d all be thrilled to see him happy again.” She takes in my expression. “Oh, shit. I should not have said that.”
“Dani—”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Mickey, but it’s not my story to tell.” Her gaze is sympathetic. “You’re going to have to get it from Rico.”
I sigh. “Okay. But you.” I nudge her. “And Wolf. Don’t you give up, either.”
“Even if you’re right, and he does like me, he’s still the much older president of a biker club.”
“A biker club that several of your cousins belong to,” I point out. “And he’s Irish, right? So maybe Catholic, if that matters.”
“Can’t hurt. Still, I can just see introducing him to my parents. Mom will give him a very friendly but neverending third degree about every minute detail of his life, and Dad will stand there and glower.”
I snicker. “I’d like to see him weather an Adamo invasion.” The Adamo matriarchs have an uncanny ability to know when anything important happens in their children’s relationships — especially sexytimes with their newly significant other.
This results in dozens of relatives, bringing enough food for a few gazillion people, “dropping by” for a lengthy visit to the amorous couple. My Revved friends all survived theirs, but the thought of Wolf surrounded by all those inquisitive Italians is highly amusing.
I look around the club, but don’t see any sign of Firestorm. Whatever they were up to in here, it looks like they’re finished. For now, anyway.
“Smile,” Dani says, holding her phone out. We lean our heads together and pose for the camera. “Should I send this to Rico? Just a friendly hello from one cousin to another?”
“You’re terrible.”
“Hey, I’ll do anything I can to help the cause. Say the word and I can send a parade of guys from the job site over to the garage to hit on you. Big, brawny men.”
I giggle. Dani finished high school and college early, and now she’s an architect doing some big project for Tonio. “Are any of them Rico’s age? Because that would probably make him the most jealous.”
11
Thought You Were A Dude
“Now who’s terrible?” She winks at me. “Adamo mamas are psychic, you know. That’s how the invasions happen. The whole clan is going to be pulling for you, whether they realize it or not.”’
“Thanks, Dani. I’ll take all the help I can get.” I check the time on my own phone. “It’s getting late; I should head home.”
“Yeah, me too.” We make our way along the edge of the dance floor toward the main entrance. Joey’s there, keeping an eye on things, and he gives us a chin lift as we go outside, past the line of people still waiting to get in.
“Joey hit on me when I got here,” I confess.
“And why wouldn’t he?” She bumps my shoulder with hers as we amble along the sidewalk. “You’re adorable.”
“Why do I have to be adorable? You’re the second person who’s told me that. Why can’t I be a sexy vixen?”
“Rico likes you just the way you are.”
“No, he doesn’t. He thinks I’m an innocent.”
Dani looks at me sidelong. “So maybe you should wear this outfit to work tomorrow.”
I snort. “He’d send me home to change. Or maybe just kill me.”
“But in the meantime, he’d have gotten an eyeful of you in your very fetching LBD. He probably doesn’t think you own one.”
“The only reason I do is because I had to buy it for a funeral a few years ago. I altered it afterwards, but this is the first time I’ve actu
ally worn it like this. I’m a total stick in the mud, Dani.”
“All the more reason for you to let him see your wild side.” She gives me another friendly shoulder bump. “Every woman has one, you know. It just takes the right man to bring it out.”
“Maybe I should.” Across the street, a window catches my attention. “Oh, look, Archer’s is open late! Come with me — I need to buy some more asstastic jeans.”
“Asstastic!” Dani cackles. “I am so totally stealing that.”
The next morning, I do the same routine as the day before, but this time I add a little mascara to my makeup. Besides the jeans last night, I grabbed myself some sexy lingerie too. Not that I’m planning on doing a strip tease for Rico, but wearing it gives my confidence a boost.
I don’t try to cozy up to him when I get to work. Let him wonder what, if anything, I’ll try next. It’ll keep him thinking about me.
Throughout the morning, I frequently sense his eyes on me, but when I look up his attention is always elsewhere. Four years of practice must have given him ninja-level skills at watching me without seeming to. No wonder I’ve never caught him at it.
Around ten o’clock, I’m entering work orders into the computer when there’s a rap on the window. I look up to see Mike, one of our mechanics. Rico took him on a year ago after he got out of prison and couldn’t find a job. He’s got tattoos everywhere and is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known.
Mike jerks his head toward one of the open bays. There’s a man standing there, holding a vase with a bunch of roses in it. What the hell?
I give Mike a “Huh?” look and he tilts his head toward the bouquet again. Weird. No way is Rico sending me roses, and neither should anyone else be. Must be a mixup.
When I open the office door to go into the garage, Valiant tries to follow me. “No, Val,” I tell her gently. “You stay here.”
She thumps her tail and gives me her most beseeching look. Given the chance, she’ll go to wherever Rico is, but it’s not safe for her to be out in the garage. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell her, and close the door on her big, piteous eyes.
The delivery guy is just a kid, probably in high school still. “Mickey Gunn?” he says when I get close.
“Yeah. Are you sure?”
He shows me the delivery order. “Mickey Gunn, Revved Garage. I thought you were a dude. Couldn’t figure out why someone was sending you roses.”
12
Don’t Even Think
“No reason a guy couldn’t get flowers,” I say absently as I sign for the delivery.
“I guess not, but I sure don’t see it. Have a good one.”
When he’s gone, I open the little envelope stuck among the greenery, keenly aware that the whole garage is watching. The message inside is written in a dark, masculine hand. Thanks for last night. - D
It makes me smile, and press a hand to my mouth so I don’t laugh. And though it’s not my intent at all, I’m sure I look exactly like a woman swooning over a sweet note from a guy.
I’m careful not to look at Rico as I carry the roses back to the office and set the vase at the back of the counter, right against the window. That’ll keep it safe from being knocked over. It’s just a happy coincidence that it also makes the bouquet easily visible to everyone in the garage.
Then I pull out my phone and text Dani. You bad, bad girl.
I have no idea what you’re talking about is the answer I get a few minutes later, accompanied by a halo emoji.
Rico’s face looks like a thundercloud. I’m ready to tell him the truth, if he ever comes near me, but he doesn’t get within a country mile.
Just before lunchtime, a customer pulls up while all the guys are busy, so I grab a clipboard with a work order on it and go to check him in. He’s around Rico’s age, good-looking in a bland sort of way, wearing a fairly expensive suit.
It’s not uncommon for customers to flirt with me. Usually, I keep them at arm’s length with a solid wall of courtesy. With this man, I might have chosen to be slightly less forbidding, if not for the roses. That’s enough torment for one day.
“Good morning,” I say to him. “Can I get your name, please?”
His eyes sweep over me, lingering on my breasts. “Well,” he says, with a smile he no doubt thinks is charming and seductive. “If I’d known you were here, I would have brought my car in sooner.”
Great. He’s already coming across kind of skeezy. He reminds me of Pick-up Guy from last night, only older. “Is this your first time at Revved?”
“That’s right.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “There’s a first time for everything, don’t you think?”
Oh jeez. “There certainly is.” I keep my manner as uninviting as possible. “Can I get your name, please?”
“Warren Handley, at your service.” He looks at my name where it’s stitched on my Revved top, using that as an excuse to scope out my breasts again. “Mickey. That’s delightful.”
“Thank you.” I write his name on the intake form. “What brings you here today, Mr. Handley?”
“Call me Warren.” When I glance up, his smile turns oily. “My car needs a brake job. But since I laid eyes on you, I’ve had a much … bigger problem.”
Oh, ick. I take a half-step away from him, but he doesn’t get the message. Or, rather, he ignores it.
“Don’t be that way,” he says, moving in again. “A man like me could show a girl like you a really good time.”
A girl like me? I don’t even want to know what he means by that, but he doesn’t leave me guessing. “I bet you could suck me off like a vacuum cleaner.”
That’s the last thing he says. The next instant, Rico has him by the throat. One big fist draws back, ready to smash the guy’s face in.
“Rico!” I shout, visions of lawsuits dancing in my head. The mechanics close in. It takes all of them to separate the two men, and even then it’s only because Rico lets them do it.
He shakes them off and stalks away. I try to follow, but Mike holds me back. “Let me go,” I demand.
“Give him a minute,” he says gently, but I don’t listen. I can’t.
“Let me go!” Pulling free, I run after Rico. Running is a stupid thing to do in a garage, but somehow I manage not to trip on anything and break my neck.
He turns just as I reach him, and I don’t even think. I throw my arms around him and bury my face against his chest. “Are you all right?”
13
Cold And Empty
“You’re askin’ me that?” Rico’s voice is harsh with barely-contained violence, but it doesn’t scare me. It only makes me hold him tighter.
“Yes.” My voice is muffled by his chest. The scent of him, a hint of oil mixed with leather and soap and his own male musk, seeps into my pores.
He hasn’t put his arms around me. I have no idea what I’m doing right now. All I have to go on is instinct, and it says to hold on, so I am.
But now he says, “Mickey. Let me go.”
“No.”
“Dammit, girl, I don’t want you.”
His words lacerate me like poison-tipped lashes. I jerk back. The garage is completely silent.
He just said that to me in front of all of them. Let me make a fool of myself in front of the mechanics, the customers, everybody.
Up until this moment, I would have sworn that Rico would never be unkind to me. Blunt, certainly, but never cruel.
I thought I was strong, but I am not this brave. My eyes fill with tears. “Liar,” I whisper, and then I turn and flee.
Through the office, grabbing my purse and my coat, ignoring poor Val thumping her tail at me. I don’t even clock out. I’m not sure I’m ever coming back.
I’m running blind through the parking lot when I collide with a large body. “Easy, darlin’,” a voice says.
Wolf. “Sorry,” I mutter, trying to sidestep him, but he grabs my forearms to hold me still.
“What’s wrong, Mickey?” His voice is gentle. “S
omething happen at home?”
Behind me, the office door opens. I look over my shoulder to see Rico approaching and jerk free of Wolf’s hold, rushing to my car and slamming inside. Seconds later, I’m peeling out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell are after me.
With nowhere else to go, I go home. Which is to say, my parents’ house. I could move out, but they’ve encouraged me to save up my money instead of spending it on rent, and they’re pretty cool about giving me my independence most of the time.
About the time I get home, a call comes in on my cell phone. I don’t even look to see who it is. The calls keep coming. I wait until the phone stops ringing, so I don’t have to look at the readout, and shut it off.
Fortunately, my parents are at work, so I have the house to myself. I take off my Revved top, resisting the impulse to cut it to shreds, and peel out of my new jeans, then take a shower and scrub away all my hair stuff and cosmetics.
It’s pathetic, but all I want to do is crawl into bed and have a pity party. Well, I don’t usually let myself indulge in those, so this once I’ll make an exception. For a little while.
I like my bed. It’s soft and cozy, with flannel sheets to keep the winter chill away. Today, it feels cold and empty.
Shutting down my brain is impossible, but I can’t bear to think about Rico. I climb out of bed long enough to turn on some music. If I only let myself pay attention to the rhythms, the melodies, the lyrics, it will help.
And it does, for a little while. Until I hear the pounding at the front door.
14
Just Me
It sounds like someone’s using a bowling ball as a knocker, which leaves me in no doubt about who it is. Rolling out of bed, I pad down the hall and past the kitchen.