Rock Chick Revenge
Page 10

“You often go to your friend’s houses when they’re not home and search them in the dark?”
Eek!
Before I could think up another lie – because it wasn’t any of his business what I was doing there, I mean, it would have been his business, if he hadn’t carried me through his offices like a caveman that afternoon, but it wasn’t his business anymore – he reached forward and grabbed my hand, tugging me back into the bedroom.
“Luke, stop. What are you doing?”
He bent down, nabbed the still-lit Maglite from the floor and snapped it off. “We’re gettin’ out of here,” he said, pulling me out of the bedroom and back into the living room.
I planted my feet when he started to yank me across the room. He stopped and looked back at me.
“No. You’re getting out of here,” I flashed at him. “I’m, um… looking for the earring I left here the other night.”
That sounded like a good lie.
Luke obviously didn’t think it was a good lie. He gave my hand a sharp tug, I fell forward and, without a word, he started walking, dragging me behind him.
I yanked my hand out of his, stopped again and cried, “Luke!”
That’s when the room exploded.
One second, we were standing there, me glaring at him in the dark, him holding his body tense like he was just stopping himself from shaking some sense into me. The next minute there was so much noise and flying debris, every thought flew out of my head.
Luke moved quickly. He threw himself at me in a body tackle and we went down to the floor. He landed on top of me, body slamming into mine and immediately pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around my head and leaning his shoulder into the floor, my face pressed into his throat, his head tucked in, temple against the top of my forehead.
Glass, dust, plaster and bits of Sissy’s adored pottery collection flew everywhere as machine gunfire blasted through the huge living room window.
I lay under Luke, pretty certain I was going to die and wishing I’d made a will. Now, my sisters and mother were going to get all Aunt Ella’s money. I should have left it to Sissy and a cat shelter.
The noise finally stopped and, even though it felt like it had gone on forever, it was probably less than a minute. Luke didn’t move, just kept me tucked tight underneath him and it hit me that our position meant he was using himself as a shield to keep me safe.
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Stop right there.
That was too much, it was all too much, time for me to bury all this somewhere deep and have a nervous breakdown later, when Sissy and I were on a beach enjoying Dom’s money.
“Luke,” I whispered and his head came up.
I was quiet because I could tell he was listening and not to me. Then his head tilted down and I could feel his eyes on me.
I lifted my hand up between our faces, index finger and thumb held an inch apart and I said, “Maybe I’m in a little bit of trouble.”
It was then he made a noise and it sounded an awful lot like a growl.
Chapter Three
That’s Who I’m Keeping Safe
“Luke?”
“Quiet.”
He knifed off me, yanked me to my feet and wasted no time pulling me through the room, through the kitchen and out the backdoor.
I didn’t resist.
I didn’t want to be anywhere near a room that exploded with gunfire. I was more than happy to be moving away from it, swiftly, hand in hand with a tough guy, mercenary, bounty hunter, private eye type person who clearly knew what the hell he was doing.
Luke jogged through the backyard then broke into a sprint down the alley, his hand in mine, dragging me behind him (and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy sprinting in flip-flops and I was going to have to rethink my footwear on my next nail-Dom-to-the-wall assignment). I saw lights go on in houses and heard police sirens but Luke just kept going.
It took me a moment, considering the fact that I was freaking out and perhaps fleeing for my life (on flip-flops no less), to realize that he was moving in the wrong direction.
I pulled at his hand. “My car’s the other way,” I whispered loudly to his back.
He kept going, dragging me with him.
“Luke!” I hissed, tugging hard.
He didn’t stop, just kept dragging me.
We shot out of the alley and stopped next to a shiny black Porsche and he bleeped the locks. He opened the passenger side door. I had to admit, even in my current state, I was a bit impressed that he drove a Porsche.
“Get in,” he ordered, snapping me out of my thoughts about his Porsche.
“What?” I asked, confused, freaked, winded from the flip-flop getaway and wanting maybe to take a second and do a cartwheel of joy that I was still alive and not full of holes.
“Get in the f**king car,” Luke clipped.
I guessed Luke wasn’t into cartwheels of joy.
“My car is… ” I started to tell him but I stopped talking when his hand went to the top of my head and he pressed me into the car. He did this so forcefully my body had no choice but to comply. My legs just buckled and my ass, of its own accord, aimed for the seat. He slammed the door the minute my feet cleared the frame.
He was in the driver’s side before I finished blinking away my surprise.
I turned on him. “I want you to take me to my car,” I told him. My purse was in my car and I needed my purse. My cell was in my purse and, just like anyone, I felt na**d without my cell phone.
He started the Porsche (incidentally, it purred like a kitten).
Maybe not thinking clearly, I turned to the door, my hand on the handle, deciding I would run to my own car.
What happened next shocked the breath right out of me.
Luke grabbed my wrist, pulled me away from the door, leaned forward and yanked a set of handcuffs out of the glove compartment, not letting me go the whole time. He snapped a bracelet on my left wrist and the other on his right. As I was staring at our wrists bound together, he put the Porsche in gear, my arm moving with his, and we rocketed from the curb.
It took a few seconds but then I stammered, “You just… you just… handcuffed me to you!”
“That’s right,” he told me as he – or more to the point we – kept shifting.
“You just handcuffed me to you,” I repeated inanely.
He didn’t answer.
“Why did you handcuff me to you?” I asked.
He remained silent.
“Luke!”
“Quiet, Ava.”
It was then I lost it. I had an excuse. I had just had a near-death experience.