THREE
Lea
I hemmed and hawed my outfit for an obnoxious amount of time. He said not to wear my work-type clothes. Of which I had very few to begin with and had only bought for the purpose of interviews. My style generally ran toward the blue jeans, tee or tank, boot kind of thing. But I figured faded jeans and an old Rolling Stones tee wouldn’t be appropriate judging by Fiona’s wardrobe so I grabbed at the couple of dresses I kept for such occasions and spent an hour trying them all on with various jewelry and hair styles, the kind of primping I generally hated.
I wasn’t one of those chicks.
Eventually, I chose a simple black tank top dress with a square-cut bodice and a hem that went just a tad bit longer than mid-thigh. And while I was tall and generally stuck to flats, Shane was a wall of a man and I could pull off the five inch scrappy heels I had never even taken out of the box and still not tower over him.
Finished, I mussed my hair, lined my eyes, put on a hint of lipgloss, and headed out the door.
I was more nervous than I thought I would be even though I had taken the time the day before when I saw Fee to let her in on my plan. She had, thankfully, thought it was freaking hilarious and declared that she had my back in creating a lie that Helen, Shane’s mother, would believe about me and her son.
The nerves, I realized as I drove my car back toward For A Good Time, Call… Inc., were less to do with telling a good lie and earning my two-fifty, and a lot more to do with the man who would be paying it to me. Why? Yeah, that was a good question.
I had just opened my car door and moved my legs out when I heard the rumble of a bike pull up behind me. With a small thrill in my belly that I was choosing to ignore, I got fully out and stood, facing him as he took off his helmet.
The engine quieted and his head tilted as he did a slow inspection, top to bottom, that made every inch start to tingle. He let out a small whistle that somehow managed to warm me as he reached behind himself for a God-awful hot pink open-face helmet.
“Um, hell no,” I said as he held it out for me to take. With that, I walked around to the trunk of my clunker, unlocked it, and popped it open.
“What’s wrong with it? It’s pink.”
“Therein lies the basis of my objection to it,” I said, rolling my eyes as I reached into he depths of my trunk to find my own helmet. I turned with it, a matte black full-face helmet with genuine street graffiti on the sides. “It’s meant for a crotch rocket, not your Harley, but I’m not wearing that hideous fucking helmet. I don’t care that you’re paying me.” With that, I slammed my trunk and made my way over toward the side of his bike. He reached for my keys, slipping them into his pocket and watching as I pushed the helmet over my head.
“A crotch rocket, huh?”
“Yeah, you know… a street bike…”
“Baby, I know what a fucking crotch rocket is. I’m just surprised you do is all.”
“Right, because I’m such a shrinking fucking violet,” I said with a smile as I slid down the wind guard and cut off the invitation or any more conversation.
I moved back a foot, putting my hand on his shoulder so I didn’t topple over in my heels, and swung a leg over, suddenly painfully aware that a skirt was maybe not the best option that night. But it was too late to change as I slid into the seat and felt the insides of my thighs brush against Shane’s slacks.
“If you know about crotch rockets, helmets, and Harleys, you know you’re going to want to hold on,” he said as he started the engine.
I took a slow breath, willing my lady bits to not get any wild ideas, reminding them of their unruly state, and pressed my upper body against his back, my arms folding across his stomach that, of course, felt strong and cut underneath his black dress shirt.
I said a silent ‘thank you’ to the universe for choosing the black dress after all seeing as Helen Mallick’s Sunday dinner demanded her sons get dressed up.
We took off and my belly had an immediate pitch that made me aware of how much I missed my bike, along with most everything I owned, and everyone I loved. I would never see them again.
We drove for fifteen minutes, going into the ‘burbs then the slightly more upscale part of the ‘burbs where we pulled up and idled in the driveway of a large two story sand-colored stucco building with perfect landscaping over a large plot of land. It hadn’t exactly escaped me that all the cars in the driveway were of the expensive variety either.
Apparently the Mallick family had money.
“You gonna let go, baby, or are you planning on clutching me all night? I mean, not that I’m complaining…”
At the teasing humor of his voice, I jolted backward and released him. He moved to stand and I quickly swung my leg to one side so I didn’t flash him when he turned. I sat as he stood, working off my helmet. Once it was off, he reached for it and hung it from one of the handlebars as I fluffed my hair back up.
“Spring break mistake?” he asked oddly and then I felt his finger stroke over the skin of my upper arm, touching the slightly raised pink scar from seven treatments of tattoo removal. That was where the lion’s share of my money had gone when I left. I needed it off. It felt less like a symbol of love and loyalty and more like a cattle brand.
“Spring break? No. Mistake? The scale of which I can’t even begin to explain,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
Shane’s head tilted a little, his gorgeous blue eyes working. In the end, though, he said nothing, just trailed his finger down to my elbow, causing way too much chaos for such a casual touch, before falling away. “You ready to earn your money?”
“Take me to your mother,” I declared, standing.
We had maybe moved two feet before his arm landed across my shoulders, unexpected and heavy, making me sink slightly as I felt myself hauled up against his side, making walking an awkward adventure in balance. “Gotta make it convincing, right, baby?”
“Right,” I agreed as we skirted the front path and made our way toward the back deck where a group of people were already standing.
It was pretty immediately clear the the Mallick genes ran strong in the family because what I saw was one older man with a tall, strong build, chiseled features, black hair that was graying ever so slightly at the temples, and startling blue eyes… and two other guys around Shane’s age who looked just like their father. Then there were two women standing around looking uncomfortable. His brothers’ dates, I figured.
“Dad looks scary, but it’s Mom you should be shitting yourself over,” Shane said quietly as eyes fell on us.
“Gee, aren’t you full of words of encouragement.”
My stomach chose that exact moment to growl… aggressively, screaming in objection to the fact that I hadn’t fed it in over sixteen hours. Shane stopped moving, looking down at me, brows disapproving. “Is this some chick on a diet ‘cause she thinks she’s fat shit?” he asked and I felt my hackles rise, making me blurt out something that I immediately regretted.
“No, it’s a I don’t have anything to eat at home thing.”
And there must have been something telling in my tone because his face softened a little. But, thankfully, he said nothing and kept pulling me up onto the deck.
“Dad, this is Lea. Lea this is Charlie, my dad. Those fucks are my brothers, Ryan and Mark.
Ryan, who I took for the oldest, was every bit as tall as Shane, but slightly less muscled. He kept his hair a little longer and his face was clean-shaven. Silently intimidating, those were the words that came to mind while looking at him. His date was a short, curvy girl with charming reddish-copper hair and a smattering of freckles, looking sweet and completely out of place beside one of the Mallick brothers.
Mark seemed more open, offering me a smile. “Heya honey,” he said, wrapping an arm around the waist of his date- a tall, thin woman with dark hair and what I was pretty sure was a prison tat on her arm.
Apparently Ryan and Mark had just as hard a time finding dates as Shane had.
“Lea, can I get you a drink, hon?” Charlie asked, gesturing to the side bar set up with a selection of top shelf booze and a smattering of glass beer bottles.
“Beer is fine, thanks,” I said as Shane’s fingers brushed some hair out of my face. It was an intimate gesture that I was sure was perfectly timed as I saw his mother step out onto the deck.
And Helen Mallick, well, she was five-foot-nine-inches of badass bitch from her heeled feet to her long black hair, sharp features, and hazel eyes. Eyes that were on me, appraising me, I might add.
“Shane,” she said, nodding her head at him and I knew enough about mothers to know she was silently reminding him to remember his manners and introduce me.
“Mom, this is Lea. Lea, this is my mother, Helen.”
“Lea, that’s…”
“Get your little butt back here Becca! No. No don’t you dare go…” Fiona’s voice called. But it was too late. A pretty black-haired, green-eyed five or six year old came barreling onto the back porch, brandishing a bright yellow stuffed bear with an assortment of mismatched clothes. Following behind her was another little version of her, around three, crying and yelling ‘mine, mine, mine’.
“Thief,” Mark said, snatching it out of Becca’s hand and giving it back to her sister. “You know what we do to thieves around here?” he asked, making his voice low and menacing.
“Not the tickle torture!” she said, backing up, waving her hands at him, eyes wide with terror.
“No. The tickle torture is for minor offenses. You, you rascal, you are getting strung up,” he declared, advancing her.
Her eyes got a little mischievous and she flew past him before he could catch her. Then Shane’s arm left my shoulders, making me feel oddly off-balance for a long minute, and he reached out, snagged the running child who had been watching her other uncle and not looking out for new threats. He tagged her around the waist and swiftly deposited her to her other uncle.
“No fair!” she declared, eyes shooting daggers at Shane. “Two against one!”
“It’s not fair to pick on your little sister either,” Mark declared, turning her suddenly and holding her around her belly and knees, her feet dangling over his shoulder as he walked away.
“You know that phrase about it taking a village?” Fiona asked, hair disheveled, one daughter clinging to her leg, another baby in her arms. The youngest bore no resemblance to the others, having inherited her mother’s light hair, but her father’s (and uncles’ and grandfather’s) blue eyes. “I need a freaking army just for Becca.”
“She’s got spirit,” her grandfather defended as he reached for the three-year old and hauled her up.
“She’s gotten spoiled by the men in this family,” Fiona clarified and not one of said men seemed repentant. “Lea, you look great,” she went on, handing off the last of her children to Helen, who took her happily.
“You’ve met?” Helen asked, eyes moving between us.
“Of course. That’s how she and Shane met. Lea works for me. He came in one day,” she said with a smile that only I knew was a little wicked, “the rest, as they say, is history.”
Beside me, Shane seemed to have stiffened slightly, but I was committed to earning my date money. “So this has been going on for a while?” Helen asked.
If ‘a while’ meant a plan hatched a couple days before, then, “Yes.”
I could tell by the eyes of Ryan that he didn’t buy it for a second.
“Figured it was time to bring her around to meet you,” Shane said, obviously deciding to play along.
“What’d Becca do to get strung up?” Yet another tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, strong, beautiful Mallick brother asked, this one even more covered in tattoos than Shane, as he walked around the deck. “Lea,” he said unexpectedly, leaning down to plant a kiss on my temple and I caught Fiona’s dancing eyes, knowing she dragged her husband in on the whole thing too. “Nice to see you again.”
“How’s things, Hunt?” I asked, silently thanking my good memory for cataloging that one time I heard Fiona say his name.
I could feel Helen’s eyes on me, appraising me, trying to gauge the situation. “Here, hon,” Charlie said, finally handing me my beer, along with one for Shane.
“You’re a piece of work,” Shane mumbled under his breath into his beer.
I cocked my head up to look at him with a small saucy smile and said just as quietly, “You’re welcome.”
“Looks like someone isn’t eating,” Hunt called and everyone turned to see yet another brother walk up, no one on his arm.
“Seriously? You couldn’t even pay some chick to accompany your ugly ass?” Shane called as the longer-haired, more slight of the brothers walked up, looking almost a little sheepish. If I remembered correctly, he was Eli.
“Come on, Ma…” he tried when she gave him a brow raise. “You’re not seriously going to make me sit there and watch you guys eat.”
“I’m not?” she asked, a very motherly smile on her face.
“Come on…”
“Hey, all your brothers managed to bring dates. Granted, at least two of them are flat-out fakes, but they’re here. You got the same call and instructions as the rest of them. You’re not getting special treatment.”
“I’m hungry,” he tried, using a phrase that would have worked on most moms. But I had a feeling that Helen Mallick was not most moms.
“Not a crumb. And you get to help me serve up all the food too,” she added when he groaned.
“Mom runs a bit of a tight ship,” Shane explained, slinging an arm around my waist. “I missed curfew one night and came home to a fucking sleeping bag on the front lawn.” He looked down at me, a boyish smile tugging at his lips. “It was December. But fuck if she didn’t make me stay out there all night.”
“I wasn’t raising boys,” Helen said with an unapologetic shrug. “I was raising men. Men who would become husbands and fathers one day. No woman wants to marry a man who can’t stick to boundaries. And no father can do a good job if he doesn’t learn about laying down the law. Ask him if he ever missed curfew again.”
“I damn near lost two toes to frostbite,” Shane said with a chuckle. “I wasn’t risking that again.”
“Come on, Eli, time for punishment to start,” Helen said, dropping the baby into her father’s arms and heading into the kitchen as Mark and Becca came walking back, holding hands. And damn if little Becca didn’t walk right over to her sister and apologize.
“Guess what Grandpa got you girls?” Charlie asked, making both older girls perk up. “A clubhouse. Want to come see?” he asked, taking a hand of each and leading them away.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Mark said as soon as the kids were out of earshot. “How did you get Hunt and Fee in on this charade?”
“She really does work for me,” Fee said, smiling. “And Hunter thought it would be funny to watch Helen react. Can’t you see the gears turning in there? Priceless.”
“Lea, if you can get our eagle-eyed mother to buy this shit all night,” Mark said, casually slipping a hand into his date’s back pocket, “I owe you a couple rounds at Chaz’s.”
I felt my lips tip up. “I’ll take you up on that,” I agreed.
“Come on in,” Eli called out the door, tone resigned.
We all moved inside and I found the inside of Helen and Charlie’s house matched the outside. Helen seemed to favor clean lines and crisp colors and as much floor space as was possible. There wasn’t much in the way of knickknacks, but there were beautifully framed collages on the walls of her living room, all of her sons. And the refrigerator was completely covered by the artwork of her granddaughters. The dining room itself was massive. I imagined when they bought the house, they knew that with five sons, they would be looking at a giant extended family one day and planned accordingly. The table must have been custom made because it looked solid, no leafs in it to extend it to the huge size it was. There was no tablecloth, leaving just the flawless dark wood, giving the room a more casual feel. There was no China cabinet, but a long sidebar where the extra drinks were stored so they didn’t take up table space.
Helen moved in and insisted everyone sit and get started without Charlie and the girls. “They’ll be out there an hour,” she declared, dropping off the biggest bowl of mashed potatoes I had ever seen in my life. “He was supposed to wait until after dessert so they could burn off the sugar before they went home. If you haven’t learned already,” she said, looking at me, “you can’t talk any sense into a Mallick man.”
“Oh, I know,” I said, giving Shane a look that made his lips twitch.
Then, a seemingly endless amount of bowls and platters were spread across the huge table until you could hardly see the wood underneath at all.
My stomach grumbled louder and louder with each passing second.
“Dig in,” Helen said, taking her seat.
Then… chaos.
Arms of all the Mallick brothers, save for Eli, reached out at once, grabbing spoons and tongs and filling up their plates. Fee, obviously used to running with the big boys, elbowed Ryan’s arm out of the way as they both reached for the corn at once, making Ryan laugh and Fee shoot me a wink.
Ryan and Mark’s dates were both taken aback as well, sitting and watching the movement with furrowed brows and small smiles, plates empty.
My plate, however, was not empty. This was because Shane’s big, perfectly muscular and tattooed arms weren’t reaching for food to pile on his own plate. Oh, no. They were piling food on my plate. Before I even realized what happened, there was potatoes, stuffing, corn, broccoli, chicken, green beans, and two, yes… two, dinner rolls.
“Um…” I started to object as he reached for the gravy.
He turned his head toward me, voice low. “When was the last time you had a full meal, Lea?” Yeah, well, he had a point there. “Exactly,” he said at my silence as he poured gravy over my potatoes and stuffing before turning to fill his own plate.
“No fucking way are you eating all that,” Mark said, shaking his head as I reached for my fork.
I looked up, my empty belly reminding me it had been weeks since I had a real dinner and that I had never had a home cooked meal. “Wanna bet?”
Mark’s smile was slow and sweet. “Fifty bucks,” he said with a nod.
“I’ll get in on that,” Ryan agreed, speaking for the first time since I got there.
And, well, with a hundred bucks on the line, yeah, I dug the hell in, making both sets of eyes light up.
Across from me, Eli was piling food on Mark’s date’s plate, head ducked a little, saying something that made the dark-haired ex-con blush slightly.
“Ease up, Eli,” Mark said, reaching behind the woman’s back and shoving his brother in the shoulder.
Eli held up his hands with a smile. “Saw an opportunity.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Mark laughed. “You couldn’t get your own date; there’s no way you’re stealing mine.”
The meal went like that for the better part of half an hour, the men throwing verbal jabs at one another, all of their speeches laced heavily with ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ and ‘pussies’. Helen and Fee pitched in as well; their language was no more refined and I found myself smiling at that. There weren’t a lot of places, I had found, where my truck-driver mouth was considered appropriate for a woman. But it, apparently, was a welcome trait at Helen’s table.
Ryan was the quietest, his barbs tending to be of the dry and sarcastic nature.
Mark and Shane seemed the most alike, both loud-mouthed and opinionated.
Hunter, Fiona’s husband, seemed a bit more staid, though no less foul-mouthed when he did open it.
Eli, while on the quiet side, tossed his opinion around in a way that landed with impact, leaving silence for a moment before someone came up with a comeback. There was something about him I didn’t see in the others. It was almost a darkness, an underlying intensity that was absent in his brothers.
The girls came in a couple of minutes later as I was willing my stomach to stretch just a little bit more so I could stuff in the rest of the green beans and the last roll. The conversation was then dominated by the incredibly confident and opinionated Becca, all the men seeming apt with her stories, no matter how long and rambling they were.
“No f’n way,” Mark said, shaking his head as I shoved the last quarter of the roll into my mouth.
“I take bets very seriously,” I said, meaning it. I didn’t have the money to pay them and in my old life, welshing bets meant more than just a loss of respect.
“You’re cleaning up tonight,” Shane said close to my ear, throwing an arm around the back of my chair.
“Good. I’m gonna need it for the gym membership to work off this meal,” I said, taking a deep breath.
After dinner, the men went into the family room to bullshit or watch a game and all the women just instinctively, even seemingly crazy independent Fee, started to clear the table.
I paused, a plate in each hand, and shook my head. “Anyone else see something wrong with this?”
Helen gave me a small smile as she reached for the fourth tray, two balanced on her forearms, one in each hand. Like a seasoned waitress. “Don’t worry. We all take turns cooking and washing dishes in this house. I just so happened to want to talk to you girls.”
Oh, great.
The interview.
I knew it would come.
I looked over at Fiona as Helen left the room. She gave me a shrug and followed her mother-in-law. “How’s your brother doing, Fee?” Helen asked as she scooped leftover broccoli into a plastic container.
“He’s with Darcy in, um, Arizona this week, I think.”
“On tour?”
“Wait,” Mark’s date broke in. I still didn’t know her name. “Darcy as in the Darcy? From the metal band?”
“Yeah,” Fee said with a casual wave. “They got together a little while back. Right before all that stalker shit went down.”
“That’s so cool.”
“Maya,” Helen said, finally giving me a name for the girl. “Where did my son find you?”
“Oh, ah…” Maya fumbled, looking around for an ally. But we were all in the same sinking boat.
“It’s okay,” Fee said, shrugging. “She knows you’re not actually dating Mark and she likes a good story. The more fucked up, the better.”
“He saw me working cleaning up the side of the highway,” Maya admitted, taking a dish from Fee to dry.
“Oh,” Ryan’s sweet little redhead piped in, “are you some kind of environmentalist?”
“No, honey,” Helen said, giving her a patient smile, “she’s an ex-convict. She was doing community service,” she said, looking at Maya for confirmation.
“Oh,” Ryan’s girl said again, face falling like it worried her to be around a criminal.
Helen put down her tongs and turned fully to the girl. “You do realize what our family business here is, right?” she asked, making me perk up. Family business? I knew about the bar and I knew the brothers each had their own businesses. I didn’t know that there was one they were all in on though.
“Helen,” Fee warned, intriguing me all the more.
“My husband is a loanshark,” Helen went on, ignoring the warning.
“Oh hell,” Fiona sighed, turning back to face the sink.
“And my boys? They’re enforcers.”
“Enforcers?” the girl repeated.
“Is ‘kneecap-breakers’ more clear for you?”
Fuck.
Of course.
Of fucking course I got myself wrapped up with a criminal family when I was just trying to lay low, bury my head, be on the straight and narrow.
The girl jerked back like someone had struck her and Helen smiled slightly. “I’m assuming you won’t be staying for dessert,” she said and the girl nodded, thanked Helen for dinner, and all but ran from the room.
“Ma, seriously?” Ryan called a couple minutes later after, I imagined, he followed his girl outside and got the scoop. “She was a nice girl.”
“Yeah, what were you thinking bringing a nice girl here?” Helen called back and was met with silence because they all knew she was right. If the entire family was in the blood-spilling, dirty money business, it really wasn’t meant for normal chicks. Hence the ex-con Mark brought home and the fact that I was, essentially, a paid escort. And Fee, well, I guess running a phone sex business gave her a certain kind of edge.
Shane walked in a minute later, reaching for my hand and slapping the cash from his brothers down into it. He looked at his mother with a smirk. “Aren’t we a little old to still be cock blocking us?”
“Oh, please. He wasn’t getting past first base with her and you know it,” Helen laughed.
“Got a point,” Shane agreed. “Can I steal Lea or are you not done interrogating her?”
Helen’s head tilted, her eyes keen. “Well, I have all the time in the world to get to know all about her, right?” she asked and I could see Fee pressing her lips together, knowing where that was going. “Since you two seem to be a bit more serious than I realized.”
“Ma…”
“Of course,” I rushed to say, not willing to give up the ruse yet.
Helen gave me a smile that said she wasn’t fooled, but was willing to see how far we were willing to take it. “Then by all means, steal her.”
“Your mom knows exactly what is going on here,” I told him as we moved into the hall.
“She knows I have never had a serious girlfriend,” he corrected. “So she’s looking for holes in our story. The sooner I got you out of there, the better. You saw what she did to Eli and Ryan.”
“But you already ate,” I declared. “And there was no chance of me fucking you anyway.”
Shane’s head jerked to look at me as another male voice started laughing heartily, drawing my attention. I found Mark standing in the middle of the hallway just outside the family room, like he was moving toward the kitchen but my words stopped him dead.
“Gotta love the honesty,” Mark said with a nod as he moved away.
“No chance, huh?” Shane asked, taking my words as a challenge.
I turned to him fully, straightening to my full height and keeping eye contact. “Not the slightest.”
“Wanna put some money on that?”
“Gentleman’s bet,” I suggested.
“Oh, baby,” he said, moving toward me, making me back up until the wall prevented any further retreat. He closed in on me, the whole front of his body pressing into me, making my breath catch, making an undeniable spark of desire start deep in my core. His arm raised, elbow planted somewhere beside my ear, his forearm arched over my head, his head ducked to look me in the eye. “No one would ever accuse me of being a gentleman.”
My chest felt compressed under the realization of what he was. Trouble. With a capital T. It seeped out of his pores. It was like an aura around him. Not just because he was a criminal, a violent bastard, and that everything about him screamed ‘womanizer’. No, he was trouble because he was a continuation of a fucked up cycle for me.
He was just another on the assembly line of bad choices.
Hot? Check.
Foul-mouthed? Check.
Sexy as all get out? Check.
Dangerous? Check.
Sure to fuck up my life even more than it already was? Yeah, I was going to go ahead and put a big fat check right there too.
Thank God I didn’t tell him where I lived. If he just showed up at my door one night, I was pretty sure there would be no denying him.
“See?” I said, swallowing a little hard. “There’s another strike against you.”
“How so?”
“I’m in a good guy phase.”
To that, his lips tipped up in a somewhat condescending smirk. “Baby, I give that a week.”
I lowered my eyes at him. “Why?”
“‘Cause you ain’t exactly a good girl.”
With that, he pushed off the wall and away from me, going to go sit with his brothers. As for me, I took a couple slow, deep breaths, trying to calm my sex drive.
Then, deciding both the kitchen and the family room were dangerous, I followed the sound of little girl laughter outside where I found the girls playing in their new playhouse.
“Can I join your club?”
“That depends,” Becca said, mustering all the authority she had in her five-year old body. Which was a surprising amount.
“On?”
“If you think boys stink.”
I let out a snorting laugh, smiling big.
Well, it looked like I found my place.
“I definitely, definitely think boys stink.”