Chapter TWENTY-TWO
ROBERTO HELD THE gun as the buzz of electric windows, accompanied by the sound of an engine, filled the night air.
“Hey, Rivera. You ready?” Luke’s bulky voice rose above the car’s engine.
Roberto’s heart pounded, the sound of blood rushing filled his ears. He needed to relax, stop thinking people were out to kill him. Then he wondered if Johnny, the kid who met his maker at DeLuna’s hand, had worried about that. Maybe worrying would keep him alive.
“Where’s Cruz?” he called back, but he didn’t put his gun away.
“He had to do some stuff out of town. I got our orders and the merchandise. Park the bike in the back. I left the gate open. We got to get our asses in gear. It’s a seven-hour drive. And we need to be there a few hours early to make sure the cops aren’t crawling all over the place.”
Seven hours? Where the hell were they going?
Figuring he’d get the lowdown later, Roberto started his bike and parked it around back. When he left, he shut the gate and locked it. If he lived, he’d like to have his bike back. Luke stood waiting outside his sedan, a lit cigarette in his hand.
He hated riding with a smoker. Maybe the goon only smoked out of his car. As Roberto neared, he got that bad feeling again. Not really like Luke was going to try to do him in, just that whatever was about to happen was going to change things. As if the shit was a lot closer to hitting the fan.
With a barely-slept headache, Leah hurried out of her apartment at six. She glanced at Austin’s door and imagined him still in bed. Did he sleep in pj’s or was he an in-the-buff kind of guy? Probably in-the-buff. An image filled her head—him in bed, the sheet hanging low on his waist, a sexy come-hither smile on his lips.
“Stop it!” She gave herself a mental kick in the butt.
Fixating on Austin only made things worse. Wanting to burn off her nervous, naked energy, she took the stairs instead of the elevator. Bad idea. She’d gone five steps when her thigh muscles screamed at her for doing too many lunges.
She grabbed the stair rail to turn around. It took one step for her thighs to scream louder. Up was worse than down. Taking a deep breath, she pulled up her big girl panties and continued down without moaning… too loudly.
Strolling at a no-pain pace across the parking lot, a gust of winter-scented wind blew past. Almost to her car, she saw something on her hood. The sun hung low, so it took her a few steps before she could identify the item.
A cup… a Starbucks cup? Had Sara…? She saw the gun.
Her water gun.
Or the water gun some low-life criminal had left at her place.
Seeing the thing shouldn’t make her smile, but it did. The smile brought on the memory of her and Austin acting like a couple of kids. Or rather, acting like a couple of hormone-crazed teenagers. She recalled with clarity the feel of his hand inside her panties, the feel of his mouth on her breasts. It was so wrong. She still didn’t stop smiling.
We’re having fun. His words played in her head. Could fun be wrong?
A note was lodged beneath the gun. She picked up the coffee. Palming the still-warm cup, she searched for him. He must have just left it.
The parking lot appeared empty. She grabbed the note.
Good morning. Wanted to say I’m sorry. Won’t let it happen again. I swear. I won’t kiss you. Won’t let you kiss me. But, please, let’s not stop having fun.
Austin
P.S. The coffee isn’t a gift. It’s a bribe.
“Damn!” Emotion thickened her throat. Why did he have to be so sweet?
Dropping the gun in her purse, she clicked her car door open and slowly got in. Obviously, the same muscles used to go upstairs were used to climb into a car.
Finally settled, the scented steam seeping from the cup filled the car. She pried off the top and stared at the caramel-colored liquid. She took a sip, the warm, sweet taste dancing on her tongue.
How did he know I took my coffee with cream and sugar?
She sat in her car savoring the coffee and lingering happiness. Why can’t I just let it happen?
What was the worst thing that could happen? They’d break up? She’d feel like shit for a while? Wouldn’t whatever they had, for whatever time they had it, be worth it?
Maybe Sara was right. Leah’d never stop being afraid. Maybe she had to dive right into the deep end to move past the fear. And if there was a deep end where relationships were considered, Austin was it. Sweet. Sexy.
But maybe. Just maybe.
Austin hid behind a van. Hiding seemed immature, but he wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. Or maybe he was still reeling from the conversation he’d eavesdropped on last night.
A conversation about purple dildos and sexual favors. He’d hardly slept a wink. And yet he felt strangely energized—as if he’d downed a six-pack of Red Bull.
Half the night he’d spent thinking of her with her purple toy and considering all the different sexual favors she’d provide… and those he’d feel obliged to offer in return. He’d had to take two showers.
He hadn’t done that twice in one night in forever. Not by himself. She had him acting like a teenager.
When her car left the parking lot, he came out of hiding. The sun was only pushing away the darkness. Had she really been smiling when she read his note? For certain she’d sipped the coffee. A good sign.
He was all into good signs.
He headed back to his apartment, pleased with himself. A little too pleased.
Managing to convince her not to push him away for letting things get carried away was one thing. Figuring out how to stop from repeating the same mistake was another.
He was not going to sleep with her.
Not until he came clean.
That’s what he’d done with the other half of his night… tried to figure out how to salvage the chemistry they had, and still do what he had to do. There had to be a way of getting past this so they could explore this thing between them.
Not that he saw the thing as serious. It would be a long-distance thing, but a hell of a lot of fun. Long weekends, cooking for each other, laughing, and making love. Running around his apartment naked, squirting each other with water guns.
Hell, they were already having fun. How good would it be when they added sex to the equation? The only negative thing was her cats. But he could continue to lease the apartment and they could hang out there.
He ran a finger behind his ear. He’d probably have to be around them some. Hell, maybe he’d take Tyler’s advice and buy a book about overcoming phobias. If there was one good reason to overcome… what was it Tyler called it? Ailurophobia. Well, Leah Reece was that reason.
She’d be worth it. He’d even attend one of those confession meetings and stand up and say, My Name is Austin Brook and I’m an ailurophobic.
Yup, he wanted to explore this… thing they had.
And his best plan was to come clean. And fast. If she’d tell him the truth, then he could spill his own truth. Yeah, by the way, that’s the reason I’m here. Or maybe… I’ve been waiting for you to tell me this so I could tell you…
He wasn’t fooling himself. The odds of her forgiving him were up there with winning the Texas lottery. He wasn’t a gambler by nature, but he occasionally bought a ticket. More importantly, he liked winning. Especially if the prize intrigued him. Leah Reece intrigued him.
Intrigued him more than any other woman. She was… real.
He wanted real.
He walked into the apartment building and went for the stairs instead of the elevator. He pondered his odds of winning this—of winning her. If it was DeLuna behind Leah’s problems, she might be more out to forgive him for wanting the man stopped.
If she wasn’t so anti-gift, he’d buy her something. Something more than a cup of coffee. Some diamond stud earrings maybe, or a…
He stopped in front of his door. Did she wear any jewelry? He couldn’t recall her wearing any. Not that she needed help being noticed, she had that smile and killer dimples. And that small perfectly proportioned body.
Walking into his apartment, he stood in the middle of the living room trying to figure out if he wanted to make coffee or grab a couple hours of sleep.
He’d already tried to call Roberto. The man wasn’t answering. Austin passed a hand over his face. Had something happened to Roberto? Or was this just Roberto behaving like Roberto? The man seldom answered his phone.
Remind you of anyone? Dallas had tossed out when Austin complained earlier. He didn’t care about that. His thoughts returned to Leah. Should he call her? Would she call him?
Aware he still stood in the middle of his apartment just thinking, he turned to the sofa. Obviously, the lack of sleep had him dazed, but he didn’t feel dazed or tired. He felt buzzed, a little anxious, but good.
He felt hopeful. Hopeful he could pull this thing off with Leah.
Nevertheless, he needed sleep. If he was going to see her tonight—and he planned on it—he needed his wits. He took off to his bedroom, walked out of his shoes, and started stripping down. The shirt and jeans landed on the dresser, his boxers came off next but didn’t quite make the dresser. They cascaded down to the carpet—which he ignored. He crawled beneath the cool sheets and when he reclined, he landed on his earphones.
Unable to sleep last night, he brought his computer in here and replayed her conversation with her friend. Then listened to the live tape in Leah’s bedroom. Once, he could swear he’d heard her roll over, even snore. Would he find out what it was like to sleep with her?
Realizing he might have missed a conversation, he snatched his computer from the nightstand. There were six saved files this morning.
He snapped on his headphones and hit play. “My goodness, aren’t you a lover this morning.”
He played all six of Leah whispering sweet nothings to her cats.
Just for grins, he played them again.
Listening to her soft voice, he fell asleep.
Roberto sat in the parked sedan, watching the sun climbing the Louisiana horizon. Supposedly, DeLuna had grown tired of playing with Texas cops and decided to see if the coon-ass cops were more fun. Or less out to get him.
If Roberto had known he was coming to New Orleans he might have called Freddie, Anna’s brother. Freddie was the only other person who’d believed Anna’s accident hadn’t been an accident. Then again, he wouldn’t have called him. Seeing Freddie would remind him of all he’d lost.
Roberto pushed his mind away from the past that he couldn’t do shit about and focused on things he could do shit about. He’d pulled information from Luke about Brad.
Unfortunately, the information told him nada. Luke said DeLuna had sent Brad on a job and he’d dropped off the face of the earth.
And if Brad wasn’t dead, Cruz was supposed to take him off somewhere and teach him a lesson. Not kill him, but rough him up enough that he’d learn a lesson.
Shifting his gaze, Roberto looked at the convenience store where Luke was finishing off his cigarette before going to take a leak. The man had the bladder of a puppy. Of course, every time he stopped, he got another cup of coffee.
And when he drank coffee, he smoked. The smell had permeated into the car. Which meant Roberto was infused with the smell. He sniffed the warm leather material of his jacket that until today had smelled of wind and sun.
Maybe he was hard on smokers, but watching his mom die of lung cancer when she was fifty, and he nineteen, had left an impression on him. He wanted to hand Luke his gun and say, “Make it easy on yourself.”
Luke, standing by the door, stomped out his Marlboro and reached for his fly. Shit, the guy’d probably have his dick out before he got to the bathroom.
Finally alone, Roberto checked his phone to see who was responsible for his phone’s vibrating.
He hit missed calls. Austin, Tyler, Austin, junk call, Tyler. Roberto had no plans to call them back, not now. The next time he called he hoped to give them Rafael DeLuna’s funeral announcement.
Frowning, he went through the calls one more time—hoping Sara’s name would appear. Not that he’d call her back. He hadn’t answered her call last night. He still liked believing she was thinking about him.
His phone vibrated again. His breath caught when he saw the number.
Checking to make sure Luke was still inside pissing, he answered the call.
“You aren’t at the diner,” Brad said. “Did you take my advice and leave?”
“ ’Fraid not.” Roberto sighed. “Look, Sandy’s freaking out. Call her.”
“Not yet,” Brad said. “Did you see my girls, too?”
“No, just Sandy.”
He sighed and paused. “So where are you?”
About five miles from becoming a drug runner. “With Luke. I’m helping with a drop.”
“Goddamn it. Please tell me you’re not in Louisiana.”
Roberto’s shoulders tightened. “Why? What’s happening?”
“There’s gonna be cops all over that place. Get out. Get out before you get killed or locked up.”
“How do you know this?”
“It doesn’t f*cking matter. Just trust me.”
The phone went silent.
“Shit!”
Roberto’s mind raced. He could just walk away. Get out of the car and disappear while Luke had his dick in his hands. That would be walking away from DeLuna and his need to vindicate his wife and son. He could go in and either get shot or arrested. Maybe both. Or pray Brad was talking out of his ass. How the hell would Brad know this unless…?
Was Brad now trying to sabotage DeLuna’s operation? He had to be if… DeLuna had more people going after him than a dog had fleas. Staring at the phone, Roberto knew he had to make a decision and fast. That’s when he realized Luke had left the keys in the car.