by Tracy Ellen
Hood’s sigh echoed mine. “Yeah, she was a smart lady.”
“She raised good men,” I stated, smiling, as I motioned for the envelope.
He smiled a little in return as he handed the package over, but swiftly changed the subject. “Candy had a couple of good hidey-holes.”
My eyes jumped to his face. “But you’re sure you found everything?”
Hood nodded. “I said ‘good’ not great. Computers, cameras, phones, thumb drives--they’ve been wiped clean of all data, not just your pictures. Nothing is retrievable. The only proof is right in that envelope.” The enigmatic smile appeared briefly again. “I even included a little birthday present.”
“Hey, Hood, thanks.” I smiled distractedly, placing the envelope out of sight inside my jacket and zipping it up to my chin. “When did you do all this data wiping and whatnot?”
Hood glanced around the lobby. “I didn’t want to spoil your surprise, but when you called me on Sunday to do the job, I knew about your upcoming birthday party. I hit MacKenzie Place yesterday, not too long before your party started. It was no problem slipping into the warehouse unnoticed.” His smile was devilish. “Candy cooperated nicely by leaving her purse and laptop in the office while she was out directing people. Then she conveniently left the building for a while to go eat dinner. During the party, I searched her car and her computer in her bedroom at your Uncle’s house. Here, take this before I forget.” He handed me the key to my uncle’s house where Crazy lived. “It worked out great, if I do say so myself. All night, you were in plain sight, surrounded by family and friends. Candy will know you couldn’t have done it,” he smiled and added mysteriously, “if she even suspects it’s about those pictures.”
Smiling at his obvious enjoyment of his cat burglar exploits, I tucked my Uncle’s house key into my jeans pocket. “Yeah, that was some fine thinking on your part to wipe everything, Hood, not only delete only my stuff like I’d asked.” I laughed. “She had her own mini EMP, huh?”
“Looks that way,” he agreed with a sad frown.
Does it make me a bad person I clapped in delight at the thought of Crazy having a fit and pulling out her hair extensions?
I didn’t think so, either. She’s one treacherous loony-toon.
“Listen, it was nothing.” He reached out and gripped my shoulder. “Don’t think this makes us square, Axelrod.” Hood’s eyes bored into mine. “What you and your NanaBel did for my family...” He shook his head. “You gave us something no amount of money can ever repay--time with our mom as a family before she died. Pete and I will do anything for you, anytime. You own our asses. Got that?”
My eyes got a little misty thinking of dead mothers, so I pushed back the inconvenient emotions and nodded briskly, all business. “Got it. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. It’s a load off my mind to know my family is safe.”
He chucked me under the chin and motioned to Bel’s entrance. “I’m going to get a coffee, so I’ll see you later.” He snapped his fingers and turned back. “Oh yeah. I’ll be ready for you to come to the studio and check out your boyfriend’s Christmas present in a few days.”
I clapped again. “Very cool, I can’t wait.”
I’d commissioned a rugged iron chandelier to hang in the bar area of Luke’s barn. Or as Hood dubbed it when he showed me the design he drew up, a mandelier. Light bulbs would screw in behind each dangling metal action figure and light them up.
He paused and then laughed a little. “This is bugging me. I get the man cave idea of the various fighting, running, boxing, shooting metal sculpture dudes I’m creating, but one of these days you’ll have to tell me the story behind the figure in the long dress.” He shook a finger at me. “I can’t see you hooking up with a cross-dresser.”
“You’ll have to ask Luke when you meet him.” Laughing, I waved goodbye as I left out the front.
“There you are!” Jazy came around the corner from the back lot and walked briskly up the sidewalk.
“I ran into Hood Martin and stopped to chat for a minute,” I explained as we met halfway.
“Oh, yeah? I saw Pete at your party last night, but not Hood. Where was he?”
I gestured vaguely. “I guess he had a thing.”
“I almost went out with Hood once.” Jazy and I linked arms to walk rapidly up Fourth Avenue alongside the red brick wall of my building. It was cold.
“Almost?”
Jazy’s smile was a little sheepish. “Something about him made me shy away.”
“His prison record?”
Jazy laughed. “No, that was hot. It was for the opposite reason. I figured the man had enough bad breaks in life, I didn’t need to add to the list by using him for a fuck and leaving him high and dry.”
“Ah, Jaz, that was such a Hallmark thing to say.”
“Hey, I can be as sweet as the next girl.”
We chuckled.
My sister commented idly, “Luke did good back there stopping the fight between Mac and Kenna. His gift is pretty damn awesome, too. Fortress Anabel, eh?”
“Yeah, Luke’s good alright, and the name fits the blueprints. I’ll be lucky if I can get out of my own parking lot when he’s finished making it safe.” I gazed at the building, eyes scaling up over the undisturbed pattern of red bricks.
On this side, there were no windows on the first floor. The large second floor windows were approximately twenty feet up above the sidewalk and I pictured them with bars.
Jazy’s long breath was a cold plume of white air. I detected the gusty sigh was tinged with disappointment. “I’ve been waiting to see if he pulled another fast one, but guess I have to remove the curse off Drake, huh?”
“Luke doesn’t have a whole lot of fear in your ability to curse him,” I admitted and then grinned imploringly, “but for my sake, would you, pretty please? I want him to stay damn good at all things.”
I was on the brink of asking Jazy for a time to meet to discuss her and Tre’s illegal horse rescue operation when we turned the corner into the back lot and walked straight into an ambush of shouts and screams.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday! Gotcha, sucker!”
My family crowded tightly around me in a circle, and I couldn’t make sense of what was going on. I suspected the girls were up to something earlier, but why were they yelling “Surprise” in my back parking lot? Didn’t they all know Luke had already given me the plans for back here? And why were Kenna and Mac standing arm in arm with matching shit-eating grins on their faces, no trace of the animosity apparent from their upstairs argument only a few minutes ago?
Anna high fived Reg and crowed, “We got her again!”
“We did!” Jazy dropped my arm to do a little jig with Tre J.
Mustang barked ferociously.
Kenna said to Mac, “Can you believe she bought our little spat?”
“I know, us argue at a family gathering?” Mac lifted her nose. “Ridiculous.”
My niece noticed my uncomprehending expression. “It was Luke’s idea to get you back here by staging a pretend fight with Mac and Kenna.” Stella’s tired face lightened with a smile. “Didn’t you think my mom was being kind of bitchy today? Luke sure knows how to work you, Auntie Bel.”
“Now that you mention it, your mom was kind of bitchy.” Beginning to feel like an idiot that I still hadn’t caught on to the big surprise, I demanded, “And what do you mean, ‘how to work me’?”
Stella didn’t answer, only continued to look at me with her little Mona Lisa smile.
My brother responded by shouting out across the parking lot, “Luke, man, we killed it. I’ll never doubt you again!”
My family all pointed and laughed at the confusion on my face. As one, they parted to either side of me, like I was Moses and they were the Red Sea, so I could see what they had been blocking from my view.
It wasn’t the Promised Land, but Luke was the next best thing. He was near my garage. His arms were crossed as he leaned casually against a shiny w
hite SUV. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the brand spanking new Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8 Bright White Alpine Special Edition with a 6.4 liter HEMI V8.
The engine that went from zero to 60 mph in 4.8 seconds.
And covered a quarter mile in 13.5 seconds.
With top speeds of 160 miles per hour.
‘Holy bejoly!’ My cold hands covered my blazing cheeks.
Luke held up a hand and jiggled a key fob.
I stared at him in astonishment.
He jiggled the key fob again and motioned to me with his arrogant nose.
I was starring in one of those sappy holiday commercials. It was complete with the giant red bow on the Jeep’s roof and white fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky, but minus the nerdy suburban Dad in a bow tie and the 2.3 excited children underfoot.
Instead, I had my siblings, friends, and a beast of a dog jumping and screaming around me, Eartha Kitt was singing a duet of “Santa Baby” with the sex kitten voice in my head, and a hot man in black leather was beckoning me forward with a slow curl of his long finger.
Swaying slowly to my second favorite Christmas song, I had to be in shock because all I could think about was that Eartha was a pretty damn cool first name. It would be perfect for Stella’s child.
Reg yelled, “Heads up, people, we may have us a fainter!”
I snapped out of my stunned reverie and pushed aside the hands that had reached out to steady me.
Reg yelled again, “Nope, nope--correction, people. We’ve got us a runner!”
But, for once, I was running towards Luke, not away.
“You are the slickest, trickiest, cleverest, most cunning…” I leapt into my Devil’s arms and, as always, he caught me easily. Giddily laughing, I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and leaned back with my hands out while he spun us once around.
Reg continued with his crazed commentary, “Yes, folks, you heard it here first. Local bookstore owner attacks an innocent male bystander in back parking lot and demands he perform cunnilingus in broad daylight!”
Luke ignored the whooping animals, both canine and human, surrounding us. He calmly looked down into my shining face and continued a conversation from about three months ago, as if he was answering a question I’d asked him three seconds ago. “Yes, Anabel, I do think it would be too cutesy to date a woman with an identical truck as mine.”
Chapter X
“Right Round” by Flo Rida (US version)
The Holidays
12/19-12/29
Every time it crossed my mind, I was overwhelmed Luke had bought me a new truck. He’d even paid the first year’s insurance. I was thrilled the big SUV was male. His name was BJ--Badass Jeep. He drove like a dream and looked so cute cozied up with Lady Liberty in the double garage.
Business was great and I was slammed for the next few days. Except for errands, I barely left the building. Part of me wished for a monster blizzard because I was dying to try out BJ in the snow and use some of my emergency birthday presents, all safely stored in the back of the truck for easy access. But winter had barely begun, and I promised BJ we’d have some fun later in January after all the holiday and wedding hoopla died down.
Since I was taking a few days off over New Year’s, I was scheduled to work every day that Bel’s Books was open until we left, which was the following Sunday on the thirtieth.
Before and after my long days in the bookstore, there were a million last minute tasks to accomplish to prepare for Christmas and Vegas. There were social events I had going on this time of year, as well as fitting time in for my daily workouts, self-defense lessons, yoga classes, baking, cooking, shopping, present wrapping, packing, and practicing being a fabulous girlfriend. Somehow, I muddled through, even working ten hour days at the store. One of the benefits of working so much, I was finally getting to know my two new part-time employees.
My hectic schedule jived with Luke’s, so I got to practice hard being a fabulous girlfriend in small increments. I think it was working out well.
Luke was involved in lengthy video conference meetings with his partners and lawyers squaring up their business. When not in meetings, Genghis was working with local contractors, including my brother. He had all sorts of projects going on at the farm in preparation for his future business. One of the outbuildings was being converted into a sleeping barracks, another into an indoor shooting range, and a third into a mess hall/lounge. Luke had even mentioned talking with Anna about opening a second Laissez Fare on his farm specifically to cater to his private clientele.
For the first few days after my birthday, Luke and I fell into an easy pattern of him coming to the apartment later in the evening. We’d cook up something together and talk over our day with a glass of wine and a beer like an old married couple. Sometimes we’d play a game of cribbage or catch up on an episode of Game of Thrones. More often than not, one of us would give the other an innocent kiss and then, BAM! I didn’t feel so old anymore. We’d make out and hours would vigorously fly by.
Luke favored the darkest hours of the night in our bed to tell me of his love. I learned not to mind that so much. A woman would have to be totally unromantic to begrudge her man keeping her up all night murmuring she was his sunshine, his darkest desire, and the air he breathes. Granted, I wanted him to enlarge on the darkest desires part versus the sunshine and oxygen stuff, but what woman with half a brain wouldn’t? Soon I worried more I’d miss something juicy when falling deeply asleep on top, under, or beside him--usually when he was still inside me and talking--no matter how hard I tried to stay awake.
Not to complain, but my Satyr also held me closer than I’d ever liked. Usually, though, I was too satiated to mind that our bodies were entwined like human pretzels under the down comforter until first light. Besides, when dawn was barely pink on the horizon, I soon learned to appreciate the time-saving convenience of already being in a ready position when he woke me up with tricky hands and beguiling kisses.
We’d get up after playing at dawn’s early light, have a quick breakfast, and then go to the farm. We’d work out together for a couple of hours before going our separate ways for the day.
Rinse, repeat.
I never dreamed a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship could be so idyllic.
During our work out time, Luke separated my ongoing self-defense training into three areas. Each area had goals assigned every session. Luke was all about the goals.
Weapons training, which so far was pistol target shooting, followed by breaking down, cleaning, and reassembling my weapon.
For hand-to-hand fighting, I was learning beginning basic Krav Maga techniques. Luke said it was in my favor that I had no previous martial arts experience to hinder my training because the point of Krav Maga was to develop your street instincts. There was no bowing and honor involved, it was fighting down and dirty to win.
The third area of training was also related to fighting, but concentrated on one specific new fighting move. Luke would have me train on a new move for as many hours as it took for him to be satisfied I had the basics down right. Currently, I had the back kick and the solar plexus punch in my repertoire and we still practiced them every session, too.
The newest skill Luke was teaching me was vicious ball kicking. I was learning the most effective ways, and the precise locations, to strike a man in the testicles with my foot. Luke agreed I had a proven natural talent, but I’d be surprised at how many men wouldn’t be totally incapacitated like Larissa’s ex-husband from your average kick in the balls. Ideally in a fight, a woman needed to nail a man in the groin with one kick vicious enough to keep him down, so she could get far away. Luke was all about me getting away.
My next few days before Christmas weren’t all ball-kicking fun and games.
Every year I somehow got guilted by Mac into participating in the annual holiday tradition for us girls to bake and decorate sugar cookies together. Unfortunately, this year was no different and it was my year to host the party at my apartment.
Even worse, a couple of years ago, Stella had declared our sugar cookies “cancer cookies.” She insisted we overhaul all the ingredients used, which included the poisonous traditional food coloring dyes. Now we used plant-based dyes and all organic ingredients. No imitation flavors or artificial colorings and sweeteners were allowed. The results were organic sugar cookies frosted in rather drab colors and worth their weight in gold. I tended to stick with pure white frosting and go with the sprinkles to avoid complete depression.
During the cookie party this year, Tre J inadvertently almost started another WWIII. Tre had brought up her great idea to have another exercise day and Event Night, since the last one had been over a year ago. When the pregnant ladies realized they’d be unable to participate if we held the event before they gave birth, all hell broke loose.
Anna loudly insisted we have Event Night next summer, not this winter.
Now, it would be understandable to wonder why an exercise day and Event Night couldn’t happen at both times of year to satisfy both sides. That was not a possibility because the originating purpose of Event Night was to hold one wild time per year of anything goes. We created Event Night three years ago during a low point in life when we were all starting to feel old and staid. The rules of Event Night were simple. Whoever hosted it that year determined the event. If you were invited to attend, you needed to be up for anything and be able to participate to the fullest degree. The mothers didn’t want to miss out if we had one this winter, and the rest of us didn’t want to wait another year.
Anna automatically commandeered the less vocal Stella onto her side. Not too surprisingly, Mac firmly aligned with the pregnant coalition in a show of motherhood solidarity. Kenna had surprised us all once again by coming to the party, but totally shocked the group when she voted for the preggers, too.
Jazy cried foul on our sister and swore that having a dog to take care of had screwed with Kenna’s brain. Not even Jazy’s threat to curse her budged Kenna.
Even the mild-mannered Tre sounded irritated with Anna when she demanded, “Are we supposed to stop living while you gestate and lactate? At our prime birthing ages, will there ever be a good time to plan a day where every woman invited is free to get beat up playing paint ball and then falling down wasted on Tequila shots?”