All Things Pretty

by M. Leighton

  “I’ll be back in just a few minutes. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Some men act like waiting hurts,” she offers.

  “I don’t mind waiting for you.”

  Her eyes twinkle the tiniest bit. “Even if it hurts?”

  I laugh. “Especially if it hurts.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Really,” she says with a sweet smile.

  Makes me want to kiss her. Among other things.

  “No problem.”

  I relax into my seat as she climbs down and slams the door behind her. I can’t help watching the muscles in her lean legs flex as she walks, watch the way her round ass moves inside the denim of her shorts with each step. She’s so tall and her legs are so long, my dick gets antsy just thinking about having those babies wrapped around me, her hot, wet body pressed up tight against mine. Holy shit!

  I’m listening to the radio, enjoying the breeze coming through the open window when she comes back out the side door of the store. I’m pretty sure my damn chin hits the floor the instant I see her.

  Her hair is pulled up into a messy platinum pile on top of her head, just a few waves hanging loose around her face and brushing her shoulders. She’s dressed in a skin-tight red dress that hugs every curve. It’s split almost to the hip on one side, perfectly showcasing her world-class legs. The whole thing reveals just enough of her lightly tanned skin to make a man wanna beg. And I do. Wanna beg, that is.

  Tongue practically dragging the floor, I watch her as she walks in tiny steps to the passenger door. When she opens it, I get a whiff of her delicious scent as it wafts through the cab of my truck. Sexy and spicy, but still kind of soft. Everything she’s trying not to be for me. But she already is, whether she’s trying or not.

  I see her eyebrows come together in a frown as she stares down at the side step. She reaches for the hem of her gown and tugs it up a couple of inches and grips the inside of the door. She’s trying to figure out how to climb in here without tearing her dress or being unladylike and showing too much of anything. What a contradiction she is.

  Her struggle spurs me into action. “Wait,” I tell her, getting out to walk around to her side. She turns to face me when I come up behind her. As I stare down at her, I realize I want her. Well, I already knew that, but now I know how much I want her. A whole damn lot!

  She looks up at me, sorta shy, hella sexy. Her eyes… God! They’re sin and innocence and trapped little bird, all in two exotic-shaped emeralds trimmed in thick, black lashes. Like she knows what I’m thinking, she glances away, nibbling at her lip again. They’re painted a dark ruby color, and they look wet. Shiny. Like she’s been licking them.

  As if she can feel me looking at them, I see her tongue sneak out at one corner of her mouth and I have to bite back a groan.

  “Need some help?” I ask for the second time today.

  She peeks up at me and laughs, a deep throaty sound that has me picturing her dancing in the rain. Naked and free. “This is becoming a habit.”

  “Not all habits are bad.”

  “No, but some are dangerous,” she mutters in a husky voice that vibrates all the way down to my balls.

  “Nothing wrong with a little danger once in a while.”

  Her smile turns sad, but she says nothing. After a few seconds, I move a step closer to her. She doesn’t back up, but the way her lips part makes me wonder what she thinks I’m about to do. Kiss her?

  Slowly, I lean in, letting my hands settle at her tiny waist. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” I instruct.

  With a bag in one hand (I assume it holds the clothes she was wearing) and a little clutch thing in the other, she reaches for me and I lift her into the passenger seat until she can scoot back and swing her legs around. We watch each other, sort of expectantly. I’m not sure what she wants me to do, but I sure as all hell know what I want to do. Before I think about acting on it, though, I shut the door and take a deep breath.

  I’m not used to holding back, and why I am for this girl, I have no idea. Maybe it’s because she has an air about her that makes me thinks she needs more rescuing than just from being stranded on the highway.

  I climb behind the wheel and start the engine. As I’m shifting into gear, I see Tommi’s pale hair enter my peripheral vision and I turn to look at. Her leg is exposed all the way to the top of her thigh and she’s leaning forward to adjust the strap of her sparkly silver shoe. When she straightens, she catches me watching her.

  “Men should be glad they don’t have to wear shoes like these,” she says.

  “It’s for the best. We could never make them look that good,” I reply with a lopsided smile.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I bet you’ve got great legs,” she says, glancing down at my lower body before looking quickly away like she slipped up by making such a comment. But she did make it, which means I was right. It’s not me that makes her nervous. It’s this damn sizzle between us.

  “You’d win that bet. And any time you wanna see ‘em, you just say the word.”

  She smiles again, but says nothing as she fiddles with the latch on her purse, back to avoiding eye contact.

  “So, where to next?”

  “The Hotel Magnifique.”

  “Nice,” I say, familiar with that venue as well. This woman is obviously used to the finer things in life.

  We ride the short distance in silence. I can almost feel her tension ratcheting up every time she glances at the clock. When I pull up beneath the covered area at the front of the hotel, Tommi finally looks at me again.

  “Thank you so much for your help today. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I confess sincerely.

  The attendant opens the door for her and she’s about to climb out when I reach for her wrist. “Wait. Don’t forget your stuff,” I warn, nodding to the bag lying on the floorboard.

  “Oh. Thank you.” She doesn’t seem the least bit grateful. In fact, she looks distressed, like I reminded her to take a car bomb with her as she goes. Finally she reaches for it and then tosses another smile my way when she’s out and her feet are on the ground. “Thanks again, Sig.”

  I nod to her, watching her as she walks gracefully toward the entrance. Just before she goes through the door, I see her duck to the side and stuff her bag of clothes into a garbage can.

  Now why the hell would she do that?

  After she disappears inside and I’m pulling away, I’m more determined than ever to find Tommi again. And to see what those eyes look like when I kiss her for the first time.

  CHAPTER THREE- TOMMI

  I plaster on a smile as I follow the hostess to the table where Lance is waiting for me. My stomach is a ball of knots. I feel like I’ve got the touch of sexy chocolate eyes all over me, like it’s obvious to everyone around me that I just spent the last hour with someone I’m insanely attracted to. I chastise myself for such a ridiculous notion and I take a deep, calming breath.

  “There you are,” Lance says when I approach. His steely blue eyes are hard. Harder than usual. He isn’t happy. That much is plain to see. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”

  Like that would ever happen. I’m not stupid.

  “My car broke down on the way over.” I can’t tell him where I really was.

  His brow knits. “What could possibly happen to a brand new car?”

  “A flat tire.”

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  When I’m seated, I let him push my chair in and wait for him to sit before I answer. The pause gives me time to collect myself. It’s important that I stay calm when I’m not telling the truth. I’ve learned this through necessity, much like I’ve learned to lie through necessity. Luckily, I’ve become quite an accomplished liar. I can make a complete fabrication seem not only plausible, but true. Lying has become as useful and essential to me as air or water or sleep. And I’m about as proud of it as I am the
rest of my sordid history, which is not at all.

  “I didn’t need help. I’ve changed a tire before. Unfortunately, the spare was flat as well. That’s why I’m late.”

  I gasp when he reaches out, like the strike of a snake, and winds his fingers around my wrist. My first thought is that he knows I’m fibbing. My second is that he can’t possibly know. My third is to keep calm.

  I stare at him blandly, my smile intact, and I wait for him to speak. If I go bumbling through excuses and elaborations, it’ll just make me look guilty.

  “My girlfriend has no business getting dirty on the side of the road, changing a flat tire. You should’ve called.”

  “By the time I realized the spare was flat, it would’ve been a nuisance for you to have to come all the way out to get me when I could just as easily call a tow truck and come to you. So that’s what I did.”

  Making it sound like I had him and his happiness as my top priority in the situation helps my case. Anything that plays to Lance Tonin’s ego is a useful tool for me.

  His aggravation lessens noticeably. “I really need to assign someone to you full-time.”

  My stomach lurches. The last thing in the world I want is for someone to be watching me 24/7, reporting back to Lance about my every move, word and wardrobe change.

  “That’s not necessary. This was an unusual circumstance. I don’t need for you to take someone away from important business just to be around on the off chance that I might need something.”

  “You’re worth it to me, baby. You are important business.” I smile as he kisses my knuckles. “Is that a new dress?”

  “It is. I know how much you love me in red.” Lance is the type who wants me to spend his money, as long as it’s on making me look the way he thinks I should look and dress. He gets furious if he catches me wearing what he calls “redneck” clothes–anything that reminds him of his trashy mother. He thinks that all women who wear worn jeans or denim shorts or more casual clothes are trashy, so he expects me to dress like the women on television that he used to watch when he was a kid trying to escape the noises of his mother turning tricks in the next room. He thinks that pretending that we’re classy will make it so.

  He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  Just then, a waitress arrives to take our order, bringing the unnerving conversation to an end.

  CHAPTER FOUR- SIG

  I stop dead, nearly dropping my teeth when I finally spot Tommi and see who she’s sitting with.

  Christ on a cracker, it’s Lance Tonin. Drug dealer. Criminal. All around scumbag.

  You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.

  Why the hell would a woman like Tommi waste her time on a guy like Tonin? Total douchebag and they say he’s mean as a damn snake. He’s the lowest of the low. Uses a lot of young kids–homeless girls, hookers, underprivileged boys–to do his dirty work. We caught two of victims a while back. Low end. One busted selling an eight ball of coke, the other with a pound of bath salts. Lance deals mostly in coke, but he dabbles in a few other odds and ends, too.

  Both kids were fiercely loyal. Wouldn’t say a word. Both had recently graduated high school. They were in the same class as the son of one of Tonin’s higher ups. That’s how we started making the connection. Both got juvie. Both ended up dead. One hung himself, the other overdosed on some pills. We don’t know how he picks these kids or how he gets them to cooperate, but he does. Still, the problem isn’t knowing Tonin is involved or how; it’s proving it.

  But they were small time anyway. To get Lance Tonin, we’d have to find out where he keeps the big stash. We need the quantity to make sure the charges stick and get him locked up for a long, long time.

  I toy with Tommi’s cell phone, which she left in my truck. She was in such a hurry to get away, for me to drop her off and go, that she must’ve dropped it. Now I know why she was on edge and in such a hurry. And why she couldn’t be seen with me.

  When I saw the phone, I turned around with the intention of finding her and returning it, but now that I see who she’s with, I’m not so sure that’s the best way forward. Maybe there’s an opportunity here.

  My department has been after Lance Tonin for four years, but nobody can get close enough to him to get a bead on how his operation is set up. I wonder if anyone has ever considered going through a back door. A beautiful blonde back door.

  I feel a surge of guilt just thinking about using Tommi that way. What a shitheel thing to do. But then again, she’s dating a known felon. She has to know that puts her in the crosshairs, in the danger zone. In that case, all bets are off.

  Like my brothers, I want to work my way up to detective, but for me, I want to go into deep cover. That takes time, though. Everybody’s gotta pay their dues. But the thing is, if I go to them with a way in on a guy like Tonin, they’d almost have to let me go under. I mean, at least it would be worth a shot to try.

  Pocketing the phone, I turn around and walk back the way I came. I need to sleep on it. Maybe even talk to my captain tomorrow. But right now, this seems like a pretty damn big gift.

  CHAPTER FIVE- TOMMI

  It isn’t until Lance puts me in a limo at just after 2 AM that I realize my phone is missing. It would be a big deal anyway because Lance wouldn’t be able to reach me, which always sends him into orbit. But this, this is a much bigger deal because I know for a fact that I had it when I left my car and I’m 99% positive that I had it when I left the dress shop. That means there’s only one place it could be.

  With Sig.

  My heart races just thinking about Lance finding out. I don’t ever worry about him getting physically violent with me. I’ve been with hitters before and I wouldn’t put it past him to get rough with a woman, but he loves the way I look too much to risk ruining it. Besides he knows how to keep me in line, knows what I value more than anything. That is why he can’t find out about today.

  Nervously, I tap my fingers on the seat beside me, even more anxious now than I was earlier tonight. When Bruce, the driver, drops me off at my condo, I rush inside and make a beeline for my brother’s room. I open the door as quietly as I can and tiptoe to the side of his bed to grab his phone, backing out as silently as I entered. I hurry into my room, closing the door and sending up a quick prayer that Sig has realized I left my phone and has it somewhere close by.

  I dial my own number, listening to it ring, my anxiety rising with each one that passes unanswered. When my voicemail cuts on, I hang up and hit redial. “Please God, let him have it inside with him.” I repeat this process three more times, making my call as aggravating as humanly possible so that he’ll pick up just to get some peace and quiet. But still no answer.

  “Don’t have turned off the ringer,” I whisper. “Don’t have turned off the ringer.”

  On my sixth try, I’m about to hang up when I finally hear a deep, sleepy voice mutter, “Hello?”

  Relief rockets through me, nearly buckling my knees. “Sig? Is that you?”

  “Just Tommi,” he says, a smile in his voice that makes my stomach dip and swirl.

  “I’m sorry to wake you. I just panicked when I realized I didn’t have my phone.”

  “I was wondering how I could get it back to you.”

  “I could come by and pick it up tomorrow,” I offer.

  “After you get your car fixed?”

  Oh, god, my car!

  I suppress a growl of frustration. I’ll need it long before then. The towing place probably doesn’t open until 8 or 9 and then I’ll have to figure out how to get two tires over there. And put on as well. All this before 9 AM, which is when Lance asked me to be at his place tomorrow. If I’m not there, he’ll call. And if doesn’t get me, he’ll come to find me. And when he finds me and I tell him I don’t have my phone, he’ll offer to take me to my car to get my phone, which won’t be there. Because a gorgeous stranger has it.

  Gah!

  Out of habit, I bite back a curse, always the lady for Lance. I could let fly when he’s not
around, but then I’d probably end up slipping up in front of him and he’d get mad. And when Lance gets mad he makes threats. And there’s only one real tool he can use to threaten me.

  Round and round we go.

  “I’ll need it before then,” I tell Sig, “but I can take a cab and meet you wherever you want, as early as possible. Please.”

  There’s a long pause, during which I wonder if he’s fallen back asleep. “I have something to do first thing, but I can meet you after. Say eight o’clock at the Daily Grind?”

  I’m familiar with the coffee shop. It’s not a place that Lance would ever frequent, so I feel comfortable agreeing to meet him there. “Sounds perfect. Thank you so much. I really hate to put you out.”

  “Trust me, it’s no bother. I get to see you again.”

  I can’t help smiling. “Goodnight, Sig.”

  “Goodnight Just Tommi.”

  “Wait!” I rush to catch him before he hangs up. “Sig?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t answer my phone again, okay?”

  “You got it,” he says and the line goes dead.

  After I sneak my brother’s phone back into his room, I begin the nightly ritual of changing into pajamas (clothing of my choosing), washing my face and brushing my teeth. It’s one of my favorite times of day. It always means that I’ve made it through another twenty-four hours in hell and that I’m one step closer to my goal.

  When I climb into bed, my mind is as torn as the dreams that come, dreams that are sprinkled with chocolate eyes and a gorgeous grin, as well as the flaming ties that a devil has around my wrists.

  CHAPTER SIX- SIG

  I wear my uniform to work, but I bring along a bag of street clothes just in case the day goes the way I think it will go. Before my shift starts, I locker my shit and go straight to the captain’s office. When I knock, he issues a baritone, “Enter,” without even raising his head.