A door shut above us followed by voices and thud, thud, thud.
She backed away faster than the Roadrunner. A cold breeze whipped through me, my adrenaline dissipating as the voices drew near. Lizzie fluffed her hair as she went in search of her boots. I fell back, gripping the pinball machine, trying to get my system to quiet, my stomach to stop spinning every which way.
Dillon graced us with his presence along with the two girls I’d seen that day on the porch. They bounced over to Lizzie, clearly excited to see her. The one with a ponytail threw herself at Lizzie. The other one, who had hair shorter than mine, waited her turn to hug the girl who had just made my body fire into fifth gear.
“Are you okay?” the short-haired girl asked.
Lizzie nodded, lacing up her boots.
“Dillon says you’re going to stay with us awhile. For real this time,” the ponytail girl cooed like a high schooler.
Dillon came up to us. “I see you didn’t kill each other.”
On the contrary, although I might die if I didn’t kiss her again. I might die if I did. Yep, downshift, dude. Take a step back. Regroup. Help her. Keep your damn hands to yourself. A laugh roared in my head. Not after that kiss. A kiss that tasted familiar, felt like home. For fuck’s sake, I was screwed.
“Did she get ahold of the lawyer?” Dillon asked, cutting short the flashes of images of my tongue in her mouth, my hands on her ass, hell, her fingers burning my skin.
I casually rested my hands in front of my groin as I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid my voice would come out strangled.
“You know finding that dude who stole her money probably won’t get her money back. We could rough him up pretty good, though.” Dillon watched the girls, who were sitting on the chaise chatting away.
I couldn’t help but ogle Lizzie. She was smiling. “Those your sisters?” I knew he helped girls off the street, but the girl with the ponytail could pass for his sibling.
“Nope. The one to the left of Lizzie is Bee. The one with the short black hair is Allie. Both were on the streets, trying to survive.”
“I admire you, man. I also commend you. None of my business, but why do you get girls off the street?”
“Everyone needs a chance. And no one should be living on the streets, especially young ladies.” His voice dropped to almost a growl as if he were pissed about something. “So, lawyer, huh? You got any other lawyer ideas to help Lizzie?”
“Dude, I’m not even in law school yet. But I could talk to one.” As soon as I’d said it, I silently berated myself. I should’ve thought about that in the first place. Jeremy Pitt, Chloe’s old man, was a former lawyer. Better yet, I could speak to Mr. Davenport. After all, he was a practicing attorney. If I did, maybe then he wouldn’t see me as a naked model but as a valued summer intern who wanted to learn. Which might help my chances of getting the job and, at the same time, help Lizzie with her problem. In the end, though, we still had to find Terrance. For no other reason than to throw the book at him. Although ramming my fists into him several times would certainly feel good.
“You know, man,” Dillon said. “Whatever you do, don’t hurt her.”
“Where did that come from?” I asked. Dillon’s attitude had changed from cordial to protective. While I liked his bravado for wanting to protect Lizzie’s feelings, I couldn’t help but remember them locking lips at Rumors.
“You’re a player. And she’s not some one-night stand. Or even someone to use as your play toy then throw out when you tire of her.”
Lizzie and the girls were deep in conversation.
“Dude, I haven’t forgotten that kiss between you two. So I could tell you the same thing.” I ground my teeth together.
“Jealous, are you?” he asked, grinning. “Look, we need to work together to help her.”
He was right. I threw aside my jealousy. I had a lawyer or two to call.
14
Lizzie
Dillon and I had just left Firefly, a restaurant and bar in a shady part of Boston. I had time to kill before art class, and he was meeting with a guy who knew the underground gambling scene in the city. I wasn’t about to miss that meeting.
“So this guy, Tommy, will call you if he hears of a poker game?” Tommy had given me the willies the way he’d sized me up.
“He will if he wants me to forgive his debt.” Dillon had sold him a gun, and Tommy still owed him for it.