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“You talking to me?” I asked.
Nina looked around the empty kitchen. “You see anybody else standing here? Of course I’m talking to you! Who else would I be talking to?” She sighed, took up her pen again and frowned at me. “Jake got shot because you didn’t have a plan.”
Oh, right, another country heard from.
“Nina, Jake got shot because Joey Smack’s people had guns.”
Nina shook her head and smiled like I was stupid.
“No, he didn’t. He got shot because you thought we should pool our talents into an agency that helps people in trouble, only you wound up taking a repo job on account of you didn’t have a mission statement.”
“No, Jake got shot on account of they had guns and Jake wasn’t expecting them.”
Nina smiled as if I’d made her point for her. “Bingo!” she cried. “If we’d all planned what this agency was about and what kinds of jobs we wanted to take on, then we would’ve been prepared. You wouldn’t go fix a faucet without a wrench or something, would you?”
As she spoke, I saw Spike appear in the doorway, her head cocked to one side as she listened. I turned to appeal to her.
“So do you think it’s my fault Jake got shot, too?” I asked.
Spike shrugged and walked over to the table.
“I think Nina has a point.” She spoke slowly, as if weighing her words. “I mean, granted, we’ve all got skills in the same area. I’m a lawyer and you used to be a cop. Jake’s former Special Ops and Nina’s… Well, Nina’s…” She paused and smiled at her girlfriend. “Nina’s just Nina. Now, while it was a good idea to decide to go to work together, we haven’t really talked about it since then. All we did was rent office space. You and Jake started taking on freelance investigative work and repos, but Nina’s right, we do need to think about where we’re headed.”
“Yeah,” Nina said. “I answer the phone. I mean, that is so bogus! What a waste of my talent!”
Once again I had no idea what Nina meant. The only talent she had that I was aware of was mud wrestling, and where could you go with that?
“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” Nina continued. “I think I have a calling and I think I ought to follow it.”
The phone rang, startling us all. Spike and I stared at it, then looked at Nina, who sat smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“So are you people going to get that, or must I do everything?” Aunt Lucy came in from the back porch, followed by Lloyd, and grabbed the receiver off the hook.
“Hello?” There was a brief pause as Aunt Lucy listened. “Who? Private investigators? Hold on a minute.” She turned to glare at me. “So now you got clients calling the house?”
I was already halfway across the room, reaching my hand out for the phone, but she jerked it back, insisting on an answer.
“Actually,” I said, “I believe you can blame this one on old Jake. He had the calls forwarded to his apartment after business hours. I suppose he had them sent here after you insisted that he recover over here instead of in his own bed in his own apartment!”
I snatched the phone from her, listened to a muttered diatribe in Italian, and ducked into the kitchen pantry where I could attempt to hear.
“This is Stella Valocchi, may I help you?”
The answering voice on the other end of the line was female and muffled, intentionally muffled, I thought.
“Yes, I need to make an appointment, as soon as possible. Is Mr. Carpenter available?”
It was starting to steam me, the way everyone was assuming that Jake ran the business, rescued damsels in distress and took a bullet to save my hide, when in fact, the reverse was true. What had he been telling people?
“Actually,” I said, “he’s a little under the weather, so he’s not taking any appointments today. However, you’re in luck. I’m Stella Valocchi. I own the agency and Jake works for me. I’ve had a cancellation in today’s schedule and could work you in around four o’clock. Is that soon enough?”
There was a brief hesitation on the other end of the line. “I suppose,” she said, sounding just like a whiny kid who had to settle for vegetables instead of candy. “But I really wanted Jake.”
I sighed. “Take a number,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Do you know where the office is? Four Wallace Avenue, second floor?’”
“I’m sure I can find it,” she snapped.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to handle your case without any difficulty. Trust me.”
“Oh, all right!” she said, and hung up.
I looked over and saw the others hanging on my every word. “Of course, you do know that we charge a thousand dollars a day, plus expenses?” I asked the empty line.
Nina’s eyes widened into saucers.
“And we will need a week’s deposit in advance.”
The line began to hum.
“Fine then, I’ll see you at four.”
I hung up and turned back to the assembled group at the kitchen table. “Now, what was this about a mission statement?”
Chapter 3
Just once I’d like to have a plan go my way. Just one time. Was that too much to ask? I stood in what had been my bedroom, clutching my towel and clean clothes to my chest, watching as Jake rolled off the bed, fully dressed, and proceeded to search for his shoes. He should have been fast asleep.
“She asked for me. I’m going.”
I adjusted my towel turban, tightened my hold on the jeans that were wrapped around my underwear and bra, and gave him the no-shit-I-mean-business stare.
“You are mortally wounded, remember?” I said. “That’s how you scammed your way into Aunt Lucy’s house and my bed, isn’t it? You’ve been gut shot. You need my aunt to tend to your every need. You can’t go see clients in the office. I’ll handle it and you can hear about the job later.”
Jake found his lizard-skin boots, pulled them on slowly and gave me a look of his own. I was working on becoming immune to the way he looked at me, but so far I found myself weak-kneed every time.
“What’s the matter, Stella? Afraid I’ll be tougher than you? Afraid you can’t keep up?”
He stood and took two steps toward me.
“Be careful. Remember, you’re wounded.”
Jake smiled. “Funny, it hardly hurts at all.” He reached me, his hands reaching to grip the sides of my arms.
“Jake, you’re out of your mind on pain medicine. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
I felt my grip go weak on the clothes I held in front of me and clutched tighter to keep my towel wrapped securely around my body. He stepped closer, towering over me, his breath hot on the side of my neck.
“Why, Stella, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“I’m not scared of you, Jake.” My voice cracked into a squeak that told him I was lying, only believe me, I wasn’t really afraid of him, just a little…apprehensive maybe? I actually had come in only because I’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. If I’d known he was awake, I would have asked my aunt to get them.
Jake ran the index finger of his right hand down the side of my face, the work-roughened skin exciting every nerve ending as it moved.
“I think you’re scared, Stella,” he whispered, cupping my chin with the crook of his finger. “I think you’re very scared.”
He bent his head toward me. My stomach pitched and his lips met mine. Finally.
The clothes hit the floor. The towel followed. I heard his foot kick the door shut behind us as I pressed into him. The rough fabric of his denim shirt brushed across the tips of my nipples and they hardened, begging for his touch.
Jake sighed. His tongue searched my mouth and mine answered him. In an entire lifetime of fantasizing, nothing could have matched the reality of Jake Carpenter’s kiss.
The turban holding my damp hair slid to the floor. Jake’s fingers raked my scalp, pulling my head back to better meet his inquisitive lips. He stroked the back of my neck in one long fluid movement that seemed to pulse with energy and heat. How long had I waited for this?
Since high school? Since the day he’d run off, too scared to elope, leaving the mousy little nerd to explain all to her aunt and uncle? Had I still been secretly waiting for him when I ran off to reinvent myself? Because I know I’d been waiting for this moment ever since my return to tiny Glenn Ford, Pennsylvania. But did I really want Jake, or did I just want him to want me so I could be the one to walk away?
His fingers slipped down my back, circled my waist and moved up toward my breasts. His hot mouth bruised my lips as I answered him with a passion I didn’t know myself capable of feeling. I felt him harden against me and knew I had Jake Carpenter in the palm of my hand. I could finally pay him back for every moment of agony he’d put me through eleven long years ago.
So why then didn’t I break it off and leave him there, wanting me and never being able to have me? Why was I lingering when I owed the son of a bitch a good and final payback? I mean, it wasn’t as if he was really my type, now, was he?
Jake’s thumb and forefinger found my left nipple, squeezed softly, and then pinched harder as I moaned and my knees went weak.
Okay. What was the better revenge, really? To leave him all worked up, or to get my needs met and leave him wanting?
Oh, definitely the latter. I mean, after sleeping in the cold, dank basement on Uncle Benny’s couch, didn’t I deserve a little satisfaction?
I felt his left hand moving down my side, felt him guiding us toward the bed, and knew I was going for all I could get before I rolled away and said, “There, that’s what you get for jilting me and humiliating me in high school!”
We half fell backward onto the bed and Jake only winced once as he rolled onto his left side and shifted to find a comfortable position. Once he’d settled in, his hands began to explore every tender, responsive inch of my body. When his fingers slipped between my legs, I stopped breathing. Oh, yes, this was definitely the good part. Oh, please hurry, I begged silently.
I grabbed the waistband of his jeans and fumbled with the button. Might as well do some exploring of my own, I figured.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” I whispered.
I felt the button give, tugged at the zipper, and was rewarded with a gasp from Jake as my fingers found smooth, hardened skin.
Jake rose up onto one elbow and stared into my eyes. His fingers moved closer and closer and if he didn’t touch me soon I was going to have to beg. Without a word, he read my mind, and I felt his fingers plunge deep inside me.
Oh, yes, I was going to enjoy this. I was going to…
“Stella! You in there?” Nina banged on the door. “Hey! We need to leave! It’s almost three-thirty. Isn’t she coming at four?” More banging.
I jumped off the bed, snatched my towel off the floor and wrapped it tightly around my torso. What in the hell had I been thinking?
“Yeah,” I called. “I’m coming!”
“Does Jake need anything before we go?” she asked.
I looked at the man lying on my bed. He’d fallen back against the pillows, eyes shut, his facial expression the perfect picture of frustration. Revenge was sweet, but so unfulfilling!
I struggled into my clothes, danced around the floor on one leg as I pulled my almost too-tight jeans up and quickly zipped them.
“No, he doesn’t need a thing,” I called to her.
Jake opened one eye and frowned. I stood, topless, at the end of the bed and let him suffer as I slowly, very slowly, pulled on my bra and fastened it.
“He’s not in pain, is he?” Nina asked. “Aunt Lucy says he can have another pain pill now.”
I looked at the bulge in Jake’s pants and smiled. “He may be a little uncomfortable,” I said, “but he’ll manage. He’s a tough guy.”
I smirked, pulled my black turtleneck sweater on over my head and turned to open the door.
“Wait,” he gasped, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’m coming.”
I looked at his crotch, then at his darkened eyes. “No, you most certainly are not,” I answered.
I opened the door and Nina half fell into the tiny bedroom. She took one look at me, glanced over my shoulder at Jake and started laughing.
“You didn’t… I mean, you weren’t…” She gasped.
“No!” we both answered.
Nina’s grin broadened. “Oh, man, wait until I tell Spike!”
I glowered at her, sure that behind me, Jake was doing the same. “Nina, let’s just get going, all right?”
Nina looked miffed. “Well, don’t take it out on me!” she huffed. “I’m not the one who said she’d be at the office in an hour!”
She spun on her heel and headed down the steps, leaving me to dash off after her. When Jake didn’t follow us, I was both relieved and disappointed. He needed to stay home. After all, a gunshot wound was nothing to fool around with, even if it had been superficial.
I raced Nina to my Camaro, slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine and looked at my watch. Ten minutes. We’d make it with five to spare, even with it being rush hour. Of course, rush hour in Glenn Ford meant a four-minute commute across town instead of the usual two.
“What’s that red light mean?” Nina asked, breaking her pout.
I looked at the instrument panel.
“Damn! We need oil.”
Nina sighed. “Oh, that’s nothing! One time I drove my car with the oil light on for two weeks.”
I looked over at my pink-haired cousin. “And then?”
“Oh, well, it died forever, but that wasn’t because of the oil light. The engine block froze.”
“Nina,” I said, rolling my eyes mentally, “that’s what happens if you don’t get oil!”
