Making the Break

by Lexy Timms

  “Crap. I need to call my boss.”

  “Go ahead,” she said as she pulled the Caddy onto the road.

  Saks pulled his cell phone from his jacket and called Luke. “Hey, Luke.”

  “Saks?”

  “I had an accident with the car last night.”

  “What? You okay?” Luke’s alarmed voice slammed into Saks’ ear.

  “Yeah. Fine. Sort of. It’s just the hood fell on my head and gave me a bit of a concussion. I’m not supposed to drive or work for a couple days.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “What?”

  “Your head. Because I can’t imagine anything hurting that hard head of yours.”

  “Very funny,” said Saks dryly. Saks imagined Luke sitting at the desk of the bike shop, laughing his head off at the idea of the car hood hitting Saks. At least Saks’ predicament amused rather than annoyed him.

  “I have a doctor’s note,” said Saks.

  “Fuck a doctor’s note. You need a couple days, you got it. Gives me a good excuse to put an ad in the paper for your job.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Damn straight,” Luke said, laughing. “I might even hire George back.”

  Now Luke was going too far. George was an FBI agent who wormed his way into the shop by an inflated résumé courtesy of his employers. When the investigation ended so did George’s employment. The guy was damned near useless at the shop.

  “You’d do better to hire Pepper back.”

  Oops. Now he knew he suffered brain damage. Pepper was another embedded agent, this time DEA, who actually could repair bikes. But while George was a mild annoyance, Pepper’s actions put both Saks and Luke’s wife in extreme danger. Pepper was persona non- grata at Central Valley Bike Repair, though he retained his membership in name only in the Spawn. Oakie wouldn’t move for a vote to remove him. As long as Pepper stayed away from the Spawn, Luke didn’t press the issue.

  “You definitely have a head injury,” growled Luke. “Take a few days.”

  “Sorry, Luke.”

  “Not a problem. Just don’t mention him again. Hope you feel better, buddy. You got someone to take care of you?”

  Saks glanced at the beautiful woman beside him. “Got it covered.”

  “Call me if you need anything.” Luke clicked off the call, and Saks sighed.

  “Problem?” asked Chrissy.

  “Nah, not really.”

  “Sounds as if your boss was giving you a difficult time.”

  “He wasn’t.” Saks stared out the window as they traveled the highway. His head hurt. If Chrissy wasn’t so fucking amazing, he wouldn’t have had the interest in making love to her. But that lustful expression on her face when he said he would spank her twisted his heart into silly putty and straightened his cock into a length of steel.

  “You know,” said Chrissy. Saks turned his head to spot a twisted smile on her lips. Damn it. She was about say something sassy.

  He fucking loved that.

  “I hear you shouldn’t try to think too much with a head injury. You could hurt your brain more.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said with a smirk. “I’m incapable of thinking straight when I’m with you.”

  “Was that a pickup line? It sounds like one.”

  “You’re the person who trolled an emergency room to find the first hapless man to drag home.”

  “Hapless? What does that even mean?”

  “Without hap.”

  She groaned.

  “No. Literally. Hap is an old Norse word that means ‘luck’ or ‘fortune’.”

  “Oh, good lord. Now I’m with the Vocab King. How much of your smarts do you hide under that tacky jacket of yours?”

  “Tacky! Watch it, woman. Diss my colors and you insult me.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize it was such a sore point.”

  “Sore? The only thing that’s going to be sore is your bottom.”

  Chrissy chuckled. “You liked that, huh?”

  “You didn’t seem to mind.” Saks smiled at the recent memory and the nice way her bottom blushed under his hand. Chrissy didn’t seem to mind playing a little rough and he loved it. But what was more, he just plain enjoyed being with her. She was sassy, fun, and willing to play to the edge. He was having such a good time with Chrissy that he didn’t notice they’d arrived as his apartment building. “Hey, what about breakfast?” His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had anything to eat since Saturday.

  “I’ll stop by the store and pick up some things.”

  “Can I trust you with my kitchen knives? You were deadly with your Eggs Benedict. I can only imagine what you’d do with sharp objects.”

  “I promise not to stab you today, okay?”

  “How can I resist that?”

  She stopped the car in the parking lot. “Out.”

  “Use me and drop me off at the curb.”

  “You should be so lucky.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You can’t get rid of me so easily. I’ll be right back.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll come looking for you.”

  “You can’t. No car.”

  “Have bike, will travel.”

  “Reckless,” she said. “Out. Straight to your place. No stopping at strange women’s doors.”

  “Scout’s honor.” She pulled out of the parking lot and Saks shook his head and smiled. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed spending time with a woman this much. He strolled the walkway to his apartment with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He passed into the courtyard and froze, catching sight of someone out of the corner of his eye.

  “Hey, pendajo.”

  Saks turned slowly to Pez. The Hispanic leaned against the red brick wall, his lips twisted in a wry smirk. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Just paying a friendly visit and checking up on you. Heard anything from the DEA lately?”

  “I don’t know what your game is, Pez, but get your ass out of here.” He was taking a chance threatening Pez. The gang leader wasn’t just the president of the entire Rojos club in Connecticut, but he was a high-ranking lieutenant in their affiliate street gang, the Hombres. He was the conduit between the Rojos and the Hombres and apparently liked being the center of power.

  But Pez wasn’t going to let up on Saks. Not today, or any day. Not since he’d learned who Saks’ family was. It wasn’t hard to guess Pez wanted to be the conduit between the Roccos and his two crime organizations. Only, Pez didn’t know what he’d be getting into. Courting the Rocco crime family meant insulting the Serafini family. Neither the Rocco nor the Serafini families played well with others.

  “Nothing, eh? I’ll be watching you.” He gave Saks a sardonic smile and ambled away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Saks watched him get on his bike and drive away.

  “Fuck me,” said Saks. It was unavoidable now. He’d have to talk to Oakie about Pez and tell him the gang leader kept reaching out to him. It was only going to piss Oakie off.

  And that could lead to a whole string of consequences Saks didn’t want to have to face.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chrissy was just starting to shop for groceries when her phone rang. Debating the various types of bacon, she didn’t look at the screen—otherwise, she wouldn’t have answered.

  “Chrissy,” her mother said. “Where are you?”

  Shit. “Oh hi, Mom.” Chrissy hefted a package of thick-sliced pepper bacon from the display into her basket. “What’s up?”

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “I was at home. I’m grocery shopping now.”

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “What’s this third degree for?”

  “Why? Why? Madonna, what have I done to deserve such an ungrateful child?”

  She took a deep breath. “What’re you going on about, Mom?”

  “Didn’t I raise you better than this?”

  “You’re right. I was ridiculous. B
ut it’s all okay now.”

  “What are you talking about? How can it be okay?”

  “If you calm down—”

  “Calm down!” Her mother’s next words were a bitter string of Italian words spoken too fast for Chrissy to follow.

  “Mama, Mama, everything’s fine with Saks.”

  “Saks! Who’s this Saks person!”

  “Anthony Parks, the Rocco man. His club name is Saks.” Chrissy stood in front of the frozen fries, deciding whether to get hash browns or tater tots. She always had a bit of problem browning the hash browns correctly, and tater tots seemed too childish. When she hit upon the tater coins, she tossed those into the cart.

  “Club? What club?”

  “A motorcycle club, Mama.”

  “What!” Her mother sounded horrified. “The Rocco advances a degenerate biker as someone to marry you? I won’t hear of it.”

  Chrissy came to the eggs and pulled a half dozen from the shelf. “Whoa, Mom. Saks is a perfectly nice man. In fact,” she said, readying to stretch a point, “he’s totally forgiven me. I’m making breakfast for him. That’s why I’m at the store.”

  “You. Making breakfast?” Her voice communicated her total disbelief.

  “I think I can put together same eggs and bacon.” Chrissy passed by a display of English muffins, stopped, and tossed a package in the cart.

  “And why are you making breakfast?”

  “Please, Mom. It’s the twenty-first century.”

  “Madonna!” Her mother spit out another string of Italian words, but this time Chrissy caught the gist of it this time. “Non sarà una vergine il giorno del matrimonio.”

  Vergine. Virgin. Chrissy rolled her eyes. This is what her mother worried about? That she wasn’t a virgin? Oh, for Heaven’s sake. She almost spit out that she wasn’t one before she met Saks, but that wouldn’t be politic. She decided it was best that she pretend her mother’s words went over her head.

  But at the mention of ‘virgin’, Chrissy debated the merits of getting a small bottle of olive oil. Perhaps Saks didn’t have any.

  “Mom. I have to go. I’m at the cash register.” She wasn’t. She was still hunting for the ketchup to go with the tater coins and hadn’t made a decision on the olive oil yet.

  “Chrissy! Don’t you hang up this phone.”

  “I love you, Mom. ‘Bye.” She found the ketchup and olive oil in the same aisle. She tossed in a small bottle, then thought about lunch. If she was going to spend the day with him, she should probably have all the food necessary so she wouldn’t have to go out again.

  What about dinner?

  But the time she finished she had a hundred dollars’ worth of food in the cart: Italian meats and cheeses for the grinders she’d make for lunch, pickles, condiments, and then steak and fries for dinner. At least she could feed him well.

  Then, for the hell of it, she bought a six-pack of beer. She figured her big bad biker would appreciate the gesture even if he couldn’t have much of it. She checked her watch and saw she’d wasted an hour at the store. She groaned. So much for getting back as fast as possible. She checked out at the cash register, only fainting slightly at the sticker shock. She could well afford it, or usually could if she was sure of her employment—which she wasn’t. Chrissy had told off Mr.-I’d-Like-To-Know-You-Better CEO Drummond Walker by announcing she had another job offer. That was job, if not career, suicide. Instead of shopping, she should be sending out a flurry of résumés right now.

  Or seriously consider James Pearson’s offer. At three quarters of a mil yearly salary, no one in their right mind would say no, right? Except, in Chrissy’s heart-of-hearts, she didn’t like James Pearson, his smug arrogance, or his flippant way of handling potential employees. Test her? The ass-hat was lucky she didn’t toss her plate of expensive lobster salad at him.

  Instead of dumping Eggs Benedict on poor Saks who, Chrissy admitted, she treated badly. Except she remembered that Saks, despite his panty-melting ways, was an opportunistic carogna who’d agreed to marry a woman he’d never met.

  This last thought curled in her stomach. Chrissy hefted the groceries into her car as she considered all the strange turns her life. Forget one-woman demolition derby, she garnered the dubious honor of becoming an entire wrecking crew. She’d burned two jobs and strained her relationship with her family. Include a blazing-hot affair with a man her family expected her to marry but normally she never would, and she good and well fucked over her life.

  She lowered the last bag of groceries into the trunk of her car and shook her head at the haul. What was she thinking? It looked like she was setting up housekeeping with Saks. She’d certainly spent more money than if they ordered out during the day. And more than one day’s worth of food filled the trunk.

  Chrissy sighed and climbed into her car. Her head was running at a million thoughts per second. It was crazy. Her phone rang, and she pressed speaker without looking for it. “This is Chrissy.”

  “Chrissy, where are you?” Charles Grayson, her headhunter, or rather the man who’d set her up with James Pearson, purred over the line, like a cat watching its prey.

  “Not at the office. What’s up, Charles?”

  “Mr. Pearson was expecting your answer today.”

  Oh, for Pete’s sake! How many times did ‘no’ not mean ‘no’? Chrissy may not have tossed her lobster salad on his über expensive Italian suit, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. It wasn’t her fault that Pearson thought her lack of enthusiasm was a bargaining ploy. “Charles, what did he say to you?”

  “Well, he hesitated to okay the private jet, but he authorized a New York apartment as a base of operations. Chrissy, you could live in New York rent-free!”

  Charles’ excitement threatened to melt her phone. She didn’t know what to say, and the silence from her end grew uncomfortably tense.

  “Chrissy?”

  “I don’t like him,” she said finally. “He’s insufferable and he’ll drive me insane inside a year.”

  “You don’t have to marry him, darling. Just take his job offer. Hell, work it three months, and if it doesn’t work out I’ll help you get out of the contract.”

  That commission must be heftier than she thought. And it appeared that neither Charles nor Pearson wouldn’t give up. Better to throw them something that Pearson would never agree to. “I tell you what. Get him to agree, in writing, to a three-month probationary period. If I don’t like the position, I can leave free and clear at the end of ninety days.”

  “Chrissy,” her headhunter said in a warning tone. “He might not go for that.”

  “In three months you can find someone else to replace me.”

  “I don’t know. There’s no money in that.”

  “One commission will have you set for six months.”

  “Three,” admitted Charles, “but you’ll cut that to one if you insist on a three-month probationary period.”

  “Don’t be so greedy. If you want me to take the deal, you’ll make it happen.”

  “You’re impossible!” He hesitated a moment. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Charles. You’re awesome.”

  With that call done she settled into the ride toward Saks’ apartment. But when the phone rang again, it jolted Chrissy out of her thoughts. “Charles! He got back to you that quickly?”

  “Who the hell is Charles? Chrissy,” rumbled her grandfather, “I didn’t see you at dinner last night.”

  Oh, shit. She needed to check her caller ID before picking up. “That’s right, Grandpa.” She ignored the first question. “I spent the night with Saks in the hospital.”

  “Saks? Who is this Saks?”

  Chrissy held in her exasperation. “Anthony Parks, the Rocco man you wanted me to meet.”

  “Parks,” hissed her grandfather. “They didn’t tell me it was a Parks.”

  “So, you’re familiar with that part of the family?”

  “Ach,” he spit. “That bastard wa
s an associate of Vits. This is unacceptable.”

  “What the hell? You pulled me into this mess. Now it’s unacceptable?”

  “What your mouth, young lady.”

  “Sorry, Grandpa, but I don’t understand. First you... encouraged me to get to know him. Now it’s unacceptable?” Hadn’t the two men met?! Was she blind? How could he not know Saks’ last name was Parks.

  “It was a mistake. I should’ve been more careful. I understood the Parks side of the family wasn’t that involved with the business. But you never know. Don’t you worry about it anymore. The deal is off.”

  Off? Off? Chrissy’s head was spinning. First, she didn’t understand how her grandfather could get things so wrong. She didn’t want to meet the Rocco man in the first place and now that she had, she didn’t want to stay away from him. Saks may not be the kind of man she dreamed off, but the way he loved her was the stuff of dreams. “Grandpa, I’ve met Saks. He’s nice. I’d... I’d actually like to get to know him.”

  Her grandfather snorted. “I’m telling you, Christina Maria Serafini, if that man goes near you again it will end badly for him.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The front lock turned, and Saks groggily rolled out of bed to see who it was. He got to the door before it opened and yanked on the knob. Chrissy fell forward with eight plastic grocery bags looped around her wrists.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Breakfast, and lunch, and dinner.”

  “You didn’t have to buy all this food. Here, let me help you.” Saks took six of the bags in his strong hands and walked them to the kitchenette a step from the edge of the living room. He put them on the counter that separated the two rooms. “What did you do, buy out the store?”

  Chrissy followed him with a few more bags that must have been sitting outside. “Glad to see you found your clothes.”

  “What?” He winked. “Not happy with viewing my naked body?”

  “Ssh. No sex talk. You need to rest and eat food.”

  “My nudity is sexy?”

  “Stop fishing for compliments, stud. Where’s your frying pan?”

  “I’ll give up my frying pan only under the condition it’s not to be used as an instrument of destruction.”