“I like my clothes on you.” His voice was deep, his eyes dark with lust.
When his hands moved beneath the fabric, I arched up into his touch and felt my eyes droop to half-mast, my gaze still locked on his face.
“I like you in my bed,” he added, slipping the shirt down my arms and casting it quickly aside.
I felt my limbs turn liquid beneath the heat of his gaze, as his eyes roamed my body. A small, distant thought niggled at the back of my mind, nagging that there was something I had to do — something important — before I could lose myself between Bash’s sheets for the next several hours.
Agent Gallagher’s scowling face flashed in my mind — Ah, yes. The Labyrinth photos.
“I have to email those pictures to Conor,” I managed to mumble between gasps, as Bash lowered his head to kiss the column of my naked throat.
“He can wait,” Bash muttered. “I can’t.”
I opened my mouth to object, but all that escaped was a breathy moan of pleasure as Bash thrust into me and my mind went blank.
* * *
I walked into Swagat the next day with an immovable grin on my face. My cheeks had begun to ache from my constant smile several blocks ago, but nothing in the world could dampen my spirits today.
“Hey, Mrs. Patel!” I called as the door swung shut behind me.
She waved begrudgingly from her post behind the cash register. Her sari was purple today, covered from the waist down with her usual dull brown crocheted blanket, and her hair was twisted into a high knot at the crown of her head.
“Love that color on you. Purple looks great with your skin tone.” I grinned at her as I walked past the counter and headed for the frozen section, chuckling when I heard her responding grunt of acknowledgement. The doorbell chimed overhead, signaling the arrival of another customer, but I was far too busy contemplating ice cream flavors to look up.
“What do you think, Mrs. Patel? Black cherry or chocolate chip cookie dough?” I called, opening the clear refrigerated door and swirling my index finger through the icy condensation on the glass. “I know I usually get the cookie dough, but today feels like a perfect day to switch things up.”
I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t answer as I made my decision and pulled the carton of black cherry from the shelf— she rarely did. But I was surprised to hear a man’s voice close to my ear, to feel the heat of his body press against my side far too intimately for a stranger.
“I would’ve gone with cookie dough, personally,” he whispered, one hand clamping down on my arm in a rough grip. He whipped me around so fast the carton slipped between my fingers and clattered to the ground, rolling down the aisle and coming to a stop beneath a shelving unit. Pressing me close to the fridge, he brought one meaty hand up to cover my mouth before I could scream for help. I struggled, thrashing so hard my vision went blurry, but managed to make out one distinct feature on my assailant’s face.
The nose — more mangled than Rocky Balboa’s after a fight, hit one too many times and never set properly. In my peripherals, I saw another man hovering just behind my attacker — big, strong, and silent, waiting to step in if his partner couldn’t control the situation. My veins flooded with panic as I realized that I knew these men.
Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal, come to collect me.
Correction — to try to collect me. I wasn’t going without a fight.
My teeth sank into Smash-Nose’s palm with enough force I knew I’d broken the skin. I tasted the coppery tang of blood on my tongue even as his curse pierced the air.
“Fuck! You little bitch!” he howled, clutching his bleeding hand inside his uninjured fist. I paid him no attention as I turned and ran toward the counter, screaming as I went.
“Help! Mrs. Patel, call the police!”
I heard the Neanderthal close on my heels, his pounding footsteps chasing me through the store faster than I could run away. I rounded a wire shelf display filled with chips too fast and felt my toe catch on the bottom corner. Sailing into the air, I was perilous to stop the crash. On my way to the ground, I locked eyes with Mrs. Patel for a fraction of a second — not long enough to draw in a breath or brace myself for impact, not long enough to scream for help one last time or plead for intervention.
Just long enough to watch as she — my knight in shining purple sari — threw off that brown, crocheted blanket I’d always thought was terribly ugly, stood on trembling legs, and aimed a sleek, state-of-the-art, semi-automatic pistol at the men behind me. As I hit the ground, a dull ache spreading through my body from my battered knees and elbows, I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
Mrs. Patel’s faintly accented voice, ringing with authority, along with the telltale click of her Glock as she cocked back the barrel.
“Leave Miss Lux alone! Get out of my store!”
I scrambled to my feet in time to see Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal freeze, eyeing the elderly woman skeptically. I could see them weighing the odds — how serious was this little old lady? Would she really shoot? Did she even know how to shoot?
I recognized the change in the Neanderthal’s eyes the moment he decided to risk it — his irises darkened as he edged closer to where I was standing with my body pressed tightly against the counter.
Apparently, Mrs. Patel recognized it too.
The shot rang out so loudly I jumped, a dull ring resounding in my ears as soon as the gun recoiled. I smelled the sharp sulfuric pungency of gunpowder in the air and watched in what felt like slow motion as a bag of Doritos on a shelf halfway between Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal blasted apart in an explosion of orange chips.
“That was a warning shot! Next time, I aim for you!” Mrs. Patel yelled, her arm steady as a sniper’s as she held the gun on their retreating backs while they ran for the exit.
“Don’t come back!” Mrs. Patel called, as the door swung closed behind them.
Once they were gone, a moment of total silence fell. I stared at Mrs. Patel in shock, unable to process what had just happened but knowing, without a doubt, that I owed this ornery old woman my life.
“You saved me,” I breathed, limping around the counter toward her.
Mrs. Patel exhaled deeply, dropped the gun on the countertop, and collapsed back into her armchair. When I reached her side, I placed one hand on her arm. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She tilted her weathered face up to look at me, her brown eyes shining with exhilaration even as her weak legs shook with overexertion. “I could use a scotch.”
I laughed lightly, reaching beneath the counter as I’d seen her do once before and pulling out a bottle and two short glass tumblers. Unscrewing the cap, I poured out two dollops of amber liquid, passed one glass to her, and clinked mine against it.
“Cheers,” I said. “To you, Mrs. Patel. You saved my life.”
“And to you, Miss Lux,” she muttered. “You always keep things interesting around here.”
We both smiled — well, I beamed and she kind of smirked, but I was still counting it — before sipping our scotch. As we set our empty glasses down on the countertop, the sound of approaching sirens became audible.
Hopefully, it wasn’t Officer Santos, reporting for duty. That would just be the cherry on top of a fantastic morning.
Not that it had all been bad.
Before my near-abduction, I’d been incandescent — practically levitating off the ground with sheer lightness of being. Waking up wrapped in the arms of the man you love will do that to you, I suppose. Even after he’d left for the office and I’d headed back to my apartment, in need of fresh clothes for work, my happy mood had lingered. In fact, I’d been in such a good mood, I’d decided only one thing could make it better: ice cream. Who cared that it was only seven in the morning?
Life was good.
I had a feeling my day was about to take a turn for the worse as soon as the door flung open and uniformed officers poured through the entryway, their guns drawn and their expressions solemn. I sighed and
looked at Mrs. Patel — who’d just finished stashing the scotch back beneath the counter — as the officer in charge approached and asked if we were okay.
Bash was going to flip his lid when I told him about this.
* * *
Thankfully, the police interrogation was relatively brief. The officers were all extremely polite and efficient as they took our information, asking several times if I needed medical attention for my scraped knees. They confiscated the VHS tape recording from the store’s security camera and promised to be in touch soon with any leads, climbing back into their squad cars and vanishing into the flow of traffic within an hour.
I was just happy I hadn’t had to make a trip to the station. Bumping into Santos at the water cooler wouldn’t exactly help matters.
It had taken a huge amount of self-containment not to spill the beans about the fact that I knew exactly who my attackers had been. They weren’t random street thugs looking for cash, as I’d led the officers to believe — they were pawns in an organization far more deadly than any city gang. But I’d given my trust to Agent Gallagher and, for the time being, I’d have to leave my life in his hands. Getting the NYPD involved in an FBI investigation would only complicate matters. Not to mention the fact that these same officers possibly worked alongside Santos. The last thing I wanted to do was tip him off, if he wasn’t already aware of my trip to Labyrinth.
As soon as the police left, I called Ravi and made sure someone would come relieve Mrs. Patel of her duties for the day. My next call was to Conor.
“Gallagher,” he clipped, answering on the first ring.
“It’s me. Lux.”
“I got the pictures by email this morning. You didn’t need to follow up.” His voice was terse.
“It’s not about that.” I sighed. Fae was right — he really was grumpy all the time. “I had a visit this morning.”
“What?”
“Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal came to see me.”
“Who?”
“The brewery thugs.”
“I told you last night, their names are Peter Miller and Tim Walsh,” he said, a note of impatience creeping into his tone. “Ex-cons, both of them.”
“Conor, I don’t give a flying fuck what their names are. I care that sixty minutes ago, they attacked me in broad daylight at a convenience store.”
“Fuck,” he cursed quietly. “They know about your trip to Labyrinth last night.”
I rolled my eyes and infused my voice with sarcasm. “You think?!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.” He sighed. “I’ll put eyes on you at all times and see how far we can push up the timetable. I have to check with my boss — and my boss’ boss. Fuck.”
“This is making me feel so much better,” I muttered.
“You’ll be fine. If you see a black sedan parked outside whatever building you’re in, don’t worry — it’s either me or one of my men. Don’t go to work. Go to your apartment, pack a bag. Move in with someone you trust — I’m sure Ms. Montgomery will let you crash with her.” Just the mention of Fae’s name added strain to his voice.
“You guys really don’t get along, huh?”
There was silence over the line. “Call me if anything else happens.”
He clicked off.
“Rude,” I mumbled, texting Fae SOS — our universal code for extraction from any kind of bad situation, reserved for only the direst of circumstances. The last time I’d used it, I’d been at a five star restaurant and my date had just plucked a hair from my head and used it as floss at the dinner table. One text and viola! Fifteen minutes later Fae was at the curb in Simon’s borrowed car, speeding me away as fast as the rust bucket could manage.
After texting her the Swagat address, I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked back to the counter to hang with Mrs. Patel. I hadn’t called Bash — I didn’t want his head to explode in the middle of a board meeting. And, anyway, I figured a few hours of keeping him in the dark wouldn’t change anything. I’d tell him later. Preferably when he had a large glass of liquor in hand or a convenient wall to punch. I was only keeping it quiet so he could have a normal day — he couldn’t possibly be mad at me for that.
Right?
* * *
Oops.
I was partially right. He wasn’t mad — he was pissed.
The first text arrived soon after I didn’t show up for work on time. Even after I messaged back that I was totally fine and assured him he had nothing to worry about, Bash was persistent. He called twice and I let it go to voicemail both times, feeling awful but hoping he’d eventually get caught up in work and forget about me for a few hours.
On his third call, I realized he had no plans to give up, so I bit the bullet and answered.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he yelled into the phone. “One week with you and my hair’s going to start turning gray with worry.”
“Sorry, Gramps.” I smiled. “I’m fine. I didn’t want to bug you at work. I know how much stress you’re under.”
“You not answering your phone does nothing to alleviate my stress, Freckles.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I figured it was the lesser of two evils.” I chewed on my bottom lip nervously.
He was silent. “What does that mean?” I could hear the tension in his tone.
“Promise you won’t freak out.”
“Lux.”
“Promise!”
“Fine, I promise. Tell me.”
I took a deep breath before launching into the story. I spit out the words as quickly as possible in hopes that if I talked at twice my normal rate he might not fully process everything I was saying. “I was at Swagat, that little convenience store I told you about, and I kind of got attacked by Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal.” I took a quick breath and hurried on. “But I bit Smash-Nose and bolted — so gross, but I had no choice — and then Mrs. Patel went totally badass and pulled out her Glock. She fired a warning shot and held it on them ‘till they ran away. It was actually pretty awesome.”
I paused, waiting for Bash to interject, but he was surprisingly silent for once. I kept talking to fill the quiet, my nervous prattle doing nothing to soothe my nerves.
“Then Mrs. Patel and I did shots of scotch, which really wasn’t appropriate at seven in the morning but, I mean, how often are you attacked by thugs in a convenience store? If any occasion called for alcohol, I think it was that one.”
I paused. He was still silent.
“So then I talked to the police and gave them a statement, but I obviously didn’t mention anything about the fact that I knew Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal because, well, that would’ve just made things worse…”
I trailed off, listening. I heard nothing over the line. No words, no background noise, not even his breathing. I pulled the receiver away from my ear and checked the screen to see if the call was still connected — it was.
“Bash?” I asked. “You still there?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was choked with tension. “I promised you I wouldn’t freak out. If I talk right now, I’m going to freak out.”
“Oh.”
“Where are you?” he forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“My apartment,” I whispered.
“Alone?”
“Fae’s here. I’m going to crash at her place for a few days, I just need to grab some clothes. Really, Bash, I’m fine.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
He clicked off.
Shit.
I turned to Fae, who was sitting on the other side of my sofa listening to our conversation. She shook her head in resignation. “Don’t look to me for sympathy,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I told you that you should’ve called him right away.”
“He was working!” I protested.
“He loves you. He wants to be with you. That means, when shit like this happens, you tell him about it.” She sighed. “I know you’ve been taking care of yourself and everyo
ne around you for your whole life. You supported your family. You held your parents together. You were there, everyday, when Jamie was sick and he needed you. I get that, love.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, staring into my eyes with an intensity I’d rarely seen in the past. “But Lux, you have to realize that people love you. We want to take care of you, occasionally. And you have to let us.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t see it that way.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just stop being so damn self-sufficient. It’s okay to lean on other people, sometimes.”
“I lean on you and Simon all the time,” I pointed out.
“Only when we force it on you,” she contested.
I sighed. “I’ll try to be better about it.”
“Good,” she said, grinning. “Now let’s pack before Sebastian gets here. I have a feeling things are going to be a little tense when he arrives.”
I felt my stomach flutter with nerves as I walked to my closet to retrieve my suitcase.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I was nearly packed. I’d squeezed as many clothes as I could manage into my luggage, and I’d filled a large tote bag with other essentials — hair products, makeup, my computer, a journal, a book to read, and the tiny iPod shuffle I used while running. The bags sat by the entryway, ready to be loaded into Simon’s car. The garment bag containing my Centennial dress hung on the back of my door, where I’d be sure not to forget it.
When the intercom went off, I let Fae answer and buzz Sebastian in. Within seconds he was at the door, stepping through and crossing the room to me with a stern expression that made my stomach flip. As he came close, I backed away from him, wary that his anger might make an appearance at any moment.
I felt like a fool as soon as he reached me. He didn’t scream or tell me I was an idiot for not calling sooner. He didn’t freak out. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me in a gentle embrace, propped his chin against the crown of my head, and exhaled a breath he’d seemingly been holding for quite some time.
Love & Lies Page 38