Uh-oh.
Gino was Wilcox’s blood. And Gino’s name was “Gino” which was a mob boss name if I ever heard one.
That meant the mafia was descending to do “clean up”.
Okay, time for me to leave.
“I’ll just wait in the car,” I said
Lee looked back to me. “Good idea.”
I started walking to the door at a loss for what to say. I felt a parting line was called for but I didn’t have one.
I stopped at the door and looked at Darius.
“See you later?” I asked.
He stared at me a beat, maybe attempting to determine my sanity. Then he grinned while shaking his head, but he didn’t answer.
“Get to the car Indy,” Lee ordered.
I ignored Lee and turned to Eddie.
“Later, Eddie,” I said.
Eddie was smiling flat out but also shaking his head.
“Later, chica.”
“Indy, get to the f**king car,” Lee repeated.
“All right, jeez. I’m going,” I muttered and turned to the door then mumbled under my breath, “So damn bossy.”
* * * * *
Lee drove us home in his Crossfire.
He was silent.
I was silent.
I was feeling a good deal of relief. There was the distinct possibility that my life was going to go back to normal. I’d never been a fan of normal, in fact, I avoided it at all costs, but now it sounded really good to me.
I kind of wanted to ask Lee if it was truly all over but I could tell Lee didn’t feel in the mood to talk. I could tell this because there were scary “not now” vibes bouncing around inside the car so I figured later would be better.
He parked behind my, now our duplex and I didn’t see any flashing lights or hear anyone running around or shouting so I figured the whole exploding car thing had been cleaned up and life was back to normal on Bayaud Avenue.
We walked in, Lee locking the door behind us, me flipping on the kitchen light.
I turned to him.
“You want a beer?” I asked.
He tossed his car keys on the kitchen counter and looked at me.
“What did you just say?” he asked quietly, face a little scary.
Um.
Uh-oh.
“Um… I asked if you wanted a beer.”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
I decided maybe it was time to go back to silence.
He watched me for awhile.
Then he said, “You left the house, where you were safe, and got yourself kidnapped. Again.”
I gave a little wince. “Yeah… well –”
He interrupted me. “My boys were busy, you’re f**king lucky Darius came to watch the house or who knows what the f**k would have happened.”
“I realize it was kind of an idiotic thing to do,” I admitted.
“Kind of?”
Jeez.
“Okay, it was a really idiotic thing to do… but –”
“Indy, for Christ’s sake!” Lee exploded, body tight, face beyond a little scary straight to semi-demented.
I did the only thing I could do.
I ran to him, one step, two, three, then I threw myself at him bodily. Jumping up, my arms went around his neck, my legs went around his hips, I bent my head, put my mouth to his and I kissed him.
I took him off guard, which was good. He went back on a foot, his hands went to my ass holding me to him. He resisted for, like, a second, then he kissed me back, hot, deep, lots of tongue, full of relief and something else.
Something that felt like promise.
It was the best kiss I’d ever had.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
So Damned Cocky
Two mornings after my third (and hopefully last) kidnapping, I slid back into bed, pulled the covers up to my chin and stared at the ceiling.
After a couple of minutes, Lee walked in carrying two cups of coffee. He put one on the nightstand and then stood beside the bed, looking down at me, sipping from his cup.
I ignored the coffee.
This heralded a momentous occasion. It was the first time I’d ever ignored a cup of coffee first thing in the morning.
“Well, the baby scare is over,” I told the ceiling, not sure if I was happy or sad my monthly visitor had showed up. Then I was not sure whether I should be happy or sad about the fact that I didn’t know if I was happy or sad. This was too confusing so I stopped thinking altogether.
The bed moved when Lee sat next to me. He leaned down, his handsome face filled my vision, his warm eyes melty-chocolate and his lips brushed against mine.
His head moved away an inch. “We have time.”
I stared at him a beat.
He was right.
We did.
I smiled.
* * * * *
To sum up:
First, Stevie was apoplectic about the state of the yard after bits of burning debris fell on it. He didn’t talk to me for a week. He was flying a lot during that time so maybe he wasn’t holding that much of a grudge and just didn’t have time to forgive me (I was going with that thought).
Second, Tex was a coffee hit. We were so busy, I had to do a quick hire. Her name was Jet, which I thought was a kickass, rock ‘n’ roll name but she wasn’t exactly kickass and
rock ‘n’ roll. She was quiet, she was sweet, she was pretty, she made a mean latte and the best part about her was, I could tell, hell, everyone could tell, she had a secret.
Third, Hank told me The Kevster was going to be okay. It was his first offense so he was likely to get community service. Rosie wouldn’t fare so well, he’d probably get a jail sentence. He announced he was seriously moving to San Salvador after he got out. It wasn’t a joke or a drama. He was done with coffee, done with pot and wanted to be far, far away from Denver. I didn’t blame him, Denver had not been good to him (even if it was all his fault) but I would miss him.
Fourth, Terry Wilcox and his goons disappeared.
Poof.
Gone.
Lee explained some of this to me.
See, Marcus had a meet with the mob in New York City with the goal of explaining his, shall we say, frustration, at Wilcox’s antics. Not only with the diamonds but also with cutting into Marcus’s action. Wilcox’s Uncle Gino was already fed up with his nephew, fed up with the constant clean up and fed up with the headache. It didn’t take much for Marcus to talk Gino into intervening. It helped when Lee gave Gino a call and told him that Wilcox was not only pestering his girlfriend but also, that girlfriend was a cop’s daughter. Gino had enough headaches, he didn’t need the Denver Police Department getting interested. Gino decided to take care of Wilcox once and for all. This might have meant that Wilcox took that long vacation he planned. It also might have meant he was fish food.