Rock Chick Regret
Page 111

Without a word, he took my hand and dragged me up to the third floor into the hall and directly into the offices.
Shirleen was standing behind her desk, phone to her ear, eyes full of relief on me.
“Hector?” Mace asked Shirleen, he didn’t break stride, he kept dragging me through the reception area.
Shirleen put her hand over the mouthpiece nodding.
“On his way,” Shirleen replied.
Mace punched a code into the keypad by the inner door.
“I’m okay,” I told Shirleen.
“Thank God, child,” she said back.
Mace dragged me through the door.
“Call Detective Marker,” I shouted as the door closed behind me.
Mace dragged me straight to Lee’s office and pulled me in.
Tom Savage, Malcolm Nightingale and Monty were all at Lee’s desk. There was a mess of papers on it, papers that looked like maps and floor plans.
Their heads came up and they stared at me.
Then Tom broke away from the rest and came at me muttering, “Christ Jesus.”
Before I knew it, he had me in his arms.
“Christ. Jesus. Jesus Christ,” he whispered over my head.
So lightning wouldn’t strike him for taking the Lord’s name in vain (repeatedly), I said into his chest, “I’m okay. It was my father. He had one of his men kidnap me. He didn’t hurt me. My father just wanted to talk.”
Tom leaned back and looked at me. “We know it was Jerry. Daisy recognized him. We just didn’t know what your father had planned.”
I saw the relief written all over his face and, even though it was unhappy circumstances that gave him that look, for some reason somewhere deep it made me happy. So happy, I slid my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek against his chest and hugged him.
I don’t remember hugging anyone like that of my own accord (and not in the middle of a major flip out) since my Mom was killed.
“I’m okay,” I repeated.
He hugged me back. “Thinkin’ about givin’ up Mexican food, girl. At least until we know you’re safe. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
I pulled away and looked up at him.
“That’s sayin’ a lot, Tom likes his Mexican food,” Monty called from his spot by the desk.
“I wouldn’t want you to give up something you liked,” I told Tom.
He smiled at me as Malcolm asked Mace, “Someone call Hector?”
“Shirleen,” Mace replied.
“The girls?” Tom asked.
“Shirleen,” Mace repeated.
“Prepare for a Rock Chick invasion,” Monty muttered.
I looked at Monty then at Mace finally at Malcolm and Tom.
“I’m sorry to worry you, I –”
Malcolm cut me off, “Didn’t hear Kitty Sue, Indy or Ally say you waltzed out with Jerry, arms linked and laughin’, so stop apologizin’.”
I nodded then, even though it probably sounded stupid, it was true, I said to Mace, “I really could use a cup of coffee. Do you guys have a kitchenette?”
“I’ll get Brody to make a pot,” Mace told me.
“Shit no!” Monty exclaimed, moving away from the desk. “Brody’s coffee’s thicker than custard. One cup’ll keep you awake a week. I’ll make it.”
“Thanks Monty,” I said to his back. He didn’t turn around, he just lifted up a hand, flicked out his index and middle fingers and walked out.
“Shit to do,” Mace mumbled, tagged me with a hand behind my head and brought me close, leaned low (Mace was really tall), kissed my forehead, then he was gone.
Monty made coffee and Shirleen, who didn’t file but apparently did serve coffee or at least she did to recently returned kidnap victims, brought it in with milk, sugar and mugs.
I had just taken my first fortifying sip (Monty made excellent coffee) when the door opened and Hector was there.
He looked at me, his face as dark as thunder.
I smiled at him.
For some reason, his face stayed dark and his gaze moved to the room.
“Get out,” he told everyone.
My smile died.
“Hector!” I snapped.
No one seemed offended by this and everyone moved to leave. There were smiles and Monty even chuckled.
I didn’t think this was funny.
Hector was being rude!
“You don’t have to leave,” I told them, putting my mug on the desk but they were gone, the door closing behind Tom, right before it did, I saw him turn then wink then he disappeared from sight.
I glared at Hector.
“That was rude,” I told him.
He was three feet away from me.
Then, without apparently moving, he was right there, his arms around me, crushingly tight. My body plastered against his, his mouth came down hard on mine.
His kiss took my breath away. The only thing I could do was put my hands to either side of his neck and hold on.
He tore his mouth from mine and touched our foreheads for a nanosecond before moving back an inch.
His eyes were blazing hot, not with desire or anger but with something else that still made my knees go weak.
“Scared the shit out of me,” he told me.
At the depth of feeling in his voice, all my organs at once ceased working.
“Hector,” I whispered.
“Don’t remember the last time I was f**kin’ scared. I don’t f**kin’ get scared. That’s why I used to find trouble. Would do anything, try anything, f**kin’ fearless. Drove Mamá up the wall. Even undercover for the Agency. I fed off the danger. Loved every f**kin’ minute of it. Never felt fear. Not once. Not until last night.”
Oh… my… God!
Did he just say that?
He went on, “I didn’t like it, Sadie.”
Yes, he just said it.
My fingers tightened on his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“This has got to end,” he told me and I really didn’t like the tone of his voice. I didn’t like it so much my fingers went even tighter at his neck.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“That means Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?”
“Plan B means this ends.”
My heart started tripping over itself (but at least it was now beating).
“What are you going to do?”
“Was toyin’ with ‘em, the Balduccis, pittin’ them against each other. I wanted them to feel the fear. Trip up. Get angry. Turn their attention from you to each other so they’d implode. I wanted them to do stupid shit so we could get them and they’d go down. They took it beyond my expectations, poisoned their own f**kin’ brother. Then they branched back out your way, torched your gallery and in the meantime your father stepped in and if we don’t shut him down, he’s gonna f**k everything up.”