13

MARGO

“There was an arm on the street. An arm! Right there in the middle of the street!” Burt, the retiree, wouldn’t stop saying that. To anyone and everyone in the Rusty Bucket who would listen.

When the car bomb went off, smoke and debris had filled the street. I’d practically had to wrestle Burt away from the door. He had as much sense as a tree trunk.

Minutes after that explosion, five patrol cars showed up on the scene. Cops in uniform wanted to interview everybody in that bar, while forensics collected evidence and what remained of the unfortunate guy in that car. Predictably, I had to close down the bar and wait for my turn to talk to the police.

Newsflash: revved up customers who’d just witnessed a crime were lousy tippers. Not that anyone who came in this place had a lot of discretionary cash.

Well, except Rock, Jumaine, and Slade. It wasn’t like they were rich, but they seemed to get by okay.

I frowned as I wiped down the counter of the bar. Hopefully those guys were nowhere near here tonight. The odds of them being the poor bastard in the car were very low, but still, I worried.

It took cops two hours to get to talk to me. The whole thing lasted ten minutes or so. After that, they said I was free to go.

Frustrated and angry with those idiots, I locked up and headed out.

Thankfully, my apartment was not far from my workplace. When I’d had no more money for college, I’d had to look for a job and a place to live nearby. One of the cooks had to take three busses to get here.

I walked briskly down the street, trying to ignore the wreckage in the street. Even though I walked this route every night after work, strain filled me. It felt as if one crime, the car bomb, had made it fair game for other crimes to take place.

A man was crossing the street, and my head swung round before I consciously recognized him. For a moment, I thought it was Rocello. Though, I hadn’t heard from him since the night I went over to his place, I would’ve liked nothing more than to fall into his embrace. It had been one hell of a night.

But it wasn’t Rocello, it was Slade.

“Hey,” I said, pausing and raising my hand. Somehow, I knew better than to call his name out loud.

He was startled for a moment and then jogged over. “Margo,” he said, stepping onto the sidewalk. “You all right?” He had brown hair that was in need of a cut. His short beard was neatly trimmed, however. He looked as if he needed sleep.

“Yeah. I was inside when it happened.”

“Good.”

“The cops said that nobody got hurt, apart from the driver of that car. He’s dead.”

“That’s too bad,” Slade said evenly. Then he flashed me a sexy smile. “Before I saw that the bar was closed, I was going to drop by and have a word with you.”

“Really?” That surprised me.

“Yeah. I heard you went over to Rock’s place the other night. How did it go?”

I stared up at him, my mind going blank. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? That his friend sure knew how to finger a woman? And in the back of my mind, I was pissed off at Rock for being so indiscreet.

“He can be a real handful,” Slade said, when I didn’t respond. “Did he give you a hard time about going to bed?”

“No, he didn’t even suggest that,” I said, half a second before I scrunched up my face in confusion. “What?”

“He’s a good kid, but he can be a handful at bedtime.”

Oh my god. He was talking about babysitting Thomas, not what Rocello and I had done. I regrouped as quickly as I could. “He wasn’t so bad. I know a lot more about dinosaurs now.”

Slade grinned. “Me, too.” He down and frowned. There was something dark on the ground of the weedy lot next to us. Slade kicked at it, sending packed dirt flying.

A car came by, and in the illumination from its headlights, I could see Slade flinch. His voice was steady, though. “How about I walk you home? You must be shaky after what happened.”

My mouth opened to tell him that it was okay. That I didn’t need him to do that. That I could take care of myself. But instead, I said, “Yeah, that would be great.”

Where the hell had that come from?

“Lead the way.”

Slade walked next to me on the sidewalk, his lanky body between me and the road. A memory surfaced. My mom once told me that my father did that, in order to protect her. Was that what Slade was doing? He didn’t seem the type. Then again, neither had my father. He walked out when I was barely four.

We reached my building, and I paused under the weak overhead light. Slade’s eyes were warm when I looked up. Strangely, I felt hesitant to go inside and leave him. Which was stupid. I lived alone. I took care of myself. Or at least, I usually did.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, gazing at me with concern.

“Of course,” I said automatically.

“Then you’re nuts.” His voice was so casual that it took me a moment to process what he’d said.

“What?”

He grinned. “Well, it seems like you’d have to be crazy to not be affected by two assholes pulling guns on you. Then three assholes showing up bloody and bleeding at your friend’s house. And then the bomb tonight.”

Oh. When he put it that way, yeah, that was all a pretty good reason to feel a bit disoriented. Plus, I could add my encounter with Rocello to the list. Jumaine, too.

Bad stuff seemed to happen when these three were around, but there was no doubt they had an effect on me. I just couldn’t quite decide if it was a good effect or a bad one.

Almost reluctantly, I fished my keys out of my purse. I didn’t really want to be alone, but I couldn’t just stand out here in front of my building all night.

Slade looked around. “Do you know of any place I can get a drink around here? I’m pretty thirsty, and my favorite bar has police tape over it.”

Automatically, I glanced down the street. “Sure. There’s a place around the corner that—” I stopped when I looked back at his face. It dawned on me that he wasn’t asking for a recommendation for another bar.

“I’ve got something upstairs,” I said quietly, and grinned.

As I opened the front door, I wondered if I was crazy. Of the three of them, Slade was the one I knew the least.

But Rocello knew him. Jumaine did, too. Hell, even Thomas did, if Slade was being truthful about the boy teaching him dinosaur facts, too.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was foolish, but I felt like I could trust him. Not because I knew him, but because they did.

He held the door open for me and I led him down the hall and up the stairs. When he was standing in the entryway of my tiny apartment, I took a step back. “Vodka on the rocks? Do I remember that right?” I knew he liked Tequila more, but I didn’t have any, plus, he’d been known to overindulge on it.

“Sounds good.” While I fixed it, he sat down on my couch, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.

“So, what the hell happened back there, Margo? It must have been pretty scary.”

“Give me a chance to pour the drinks, would ya?” I said without thinking.

He laughed. “Fair enough. But no tip for you.”

I had to grin at that. It had been a weird night and I wasn’t feeling my usual self.

I went back to the living room, holding a tray with two glasses and a bottle of vodka on it. My space wasn’t large enough to have a coffee table, so I kicked the round ottoman over to the couch and set the tray down on that.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up the glass. Without uttering a word, he downed more than half of his drink. He patted the sofa next to him, and obediently, I sat down. Jeesh, what was up with me tonight? But Slade was right. It had been one hell of a week.

“To get back to your question…” I paused enough to take a sip of vodka. “I was in the kitchen when we heard the explosion. The windows rattled and I thought it was an earthquake at first. But then someone said there was a car on fire. The cops were there within minutes.”

“That’s unusual.”

I gave a quick laugh. “Which part?”

“All of it,” he admitted. “But especially the part about the cops. They usually don’t show up that quickly.”

“If they even show up at all,” I agreed.

Slade crossed his leg, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “When I saw how close the car was to your bar, I worried about you.”

His words—plus the vodka—warmed me. “I worried about you, too. You and Jumaine and Rocello.”

His gaze sharpened. “Really? Why?”

“Because you guys always seem to be around when trouble happens.”

He leaned forward to pour himself more vodka. “I can’t deny that.”

“I wish it weren’t like that,” I said with a sigh.

Slade rested his long arm on the back of the couch, just inches from my shoulder. “Yeah, you probably should stay away from us.”

“I mean, I wish it weren’t like that for you guys.”

He looked away for a long moment before speaking. “This is just what life’s like for us.”

I reached up and touched his arm, getting his attention. “But don’t you wish it could be different?”

I thought he was going to deny it, to stick with his fatalistic viewpoint. But to my surprise, he said, “Yeah, I do.”

“Me, too.”

His gaze was curious. “What would you change about your life?”

I gave a small laugh, gesturing around my tiny apartment. The paint on the walls was peeling. You could walk from the bed to the stove in under ten seconds. And it didn’t even have a real closet. “Everything.”

“Come on, give me some details.”

Several answers flicked through my thoughts before I settled on one. “I wanted to go to law school.”

“Really?” He cocked an eye at me. “I don’t see you as the cutthroat type, though Rock told me you know how to handle a shotgun.”

“Lawyers can help people, too, you know.”

He gave a rueful shake of his head. “That hasn’t been my experience.”

Yeah, probably not. I still didn’t know much about him—or any of them—but it was clear they hadn’t had an easy life.

“My mom and I used to watch legal dramas on TV. I know they weren’t very realistic, but, well, that’s what I wanted to be.”

Slade studied me. “You’ve got the brains for it.”

For some reason, a denial rose to my lips. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. So what happened?”

“No money. I took a few semesters of college and then I had to drop out.”

“Some people don’t even get that much,” Slade said, but he didn’t mean it meanly. He and his buddies hadn’t even had that much of an opportunity.

“I know. But my mom—she was so proud when she told me about the money she’d saved up. No matter how bad things got, she took a little out of each paycheck and stashed it away.”

“Sounds like a good mom. Is she still—?”

“No. Cancer.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

I nodded, but my mind was on a tangent. “I’m just glad she never knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That the money wasn’t enough. That I’d be tending bar. That my life would be like this.”

Slade scooted closer. “Maybe she’d be happy to know that you’re a good person. A strong woman. And you mix one hell of a good drink.”

“All I did was pour vodka over ice.”

He grinned. “I meant some of your other drinks at the bar. You make people happy there. You listen to them. Even the jerks.”

That almost made me laugh. “Are you in that category?”

“Sometimes.”

I nodded, sensing it wouldn’t offend him. “But not tonight.”

“Nope, not tonight.” His eyes were on me. “Come here.” He patted the couch next to him even though we were practically right next to him.

I eyed him, trying to gauge his expression. Did he want to kiss me? For some reason, there seemed to be a lot of that going around. And what’s more, I kept letting it happen. “Slade, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He gave me a cocky smile. “Since you don’t even know what my idea is, I don’t think you’re in the best position to judge that.”

I stared at him suspiciously. “What’s your idea?”

“Come here and find out.”

It was a challenge. And the smirk on his face was irritating. But I didn’t back down from challenges, and I didn’t let cocky men win.

I scooted over.

His eyes gleamed and he spread his legs apart, pointing at the floor. “Sit down there.”

My eyes narrowed and I glared at him. “If you think I’m going to blow you just because—”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sit down there facing away from me,” he emphasized. “Though, now I’m really curious about how you were going to finish that sentence.”

“Oh,” I said meekly. Now that I had some idea where this was going, I settled down on the floor, my back against the sofa. His long legs were on either side of me.

I felt the couch shift as he leaned forward, and then his hands were on my shoulders. “Oh god,” I moaned as he began rubbing.

He chuckled in appreciation of the sound. “I figured you might be tense tonight.”

“Go figure,” I said, but it felt too good to be sarcastic. His fingers were long and very strong. Delicious shivers radiated from everywhere he touched.

He worked my shoulders until I was completely relaxed and content. Then he tugged on the end of my ponytail. “Can you undo that?”

“Sure.” I possibly would’ve answered the same way if he’d asked me to take off all my clothes. His touch felt so damn good.

When my hair was free, he plunged his hands into it, kneading my scalp. I leaned my head back, my eyes closed. “That feels amazing.”

“The way you’re moaning sounds pretty amazing,” he said. “And if I weren’t such a professional, it might have an effect on me.”

I giggled, a sound I didn’t usually make. “A substantial effect?”

“Very substantial.”

I could almost imagine his erection. It had to be just inches from my head, I contemplated turning around and doing the very thing I’d thought he’d wanted from me before, but his fingertips were gliding along my hairline, and I was too content to move.

As his hands worked their magic, I almost fell into a trance. This was exactly what I needed after such a stressful week. It made me grateful that I’d happened to run into him tonight. He’d always seemed the most lighthearted of the three. A bit nuts sometimes, but better natured than Rocello, who could be so grumpy, and Jumaine, who could be so serious.

Yeah, I was glad he just happened to be on the street when I left tonight. I sighed in bliss as he pushed my head gently forward and began kneading my upper back.

That had been a real piece of luck.

But somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a little voice emerged through the feel-good hormones.

Had it been luck that he’d just been outside when I left the bar?