Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(136)

“Give the phone to Jerry,” he ordered.

I smiled with saccharin sweetness (through my surprise) at Jerry and held out the phone.

“Daddy wants to talk to you.” I told him.

Jerry gave me a glare, took the phone, turned his back to me and walked out of the room.

Minutes later, he came back, holding a funny looking gun.

I stared in shock at the gun.

“Lights out,” Jerry said and the last thing I saw were the Taser prongs coming at me.

* * * * *

I came to strapped into the front seat of Jerry’s BMW and he was driving. I didn’t know how long I’d been out but it took awhile for me to get my faculties together.

I figured I’d chatted enough with Jerry, he wasn’t a great conversationalist so even when I had myself sorted, I kept my mouth shut.

After awhile, Jerry, unfortunately, felt like talking.

“I’m gonna stop for a second, you’re not clear of the car, I run you down. You try something smart, I go for payback. I’ll be nicer to you than Ricky, blood would put me off getting off. Who knows? Maybe you’d even enjoy it.”

Seriously.

What a jerk!

“Swine,” I mumbled, breaking my vow not to speak to him.

He kept on, clearly unhappy about me throwing him under the bus (or maybe he was swine). “Don’t mind sayin’, all the boys had a thing for you. Chavez wasn’t the only one; he just hid it better than the rest of us. You, Christ, all haughty, bitchy and ice cold. We spent a lot of time talkin’ about how you’d feel if we got a piece of you, if our cocks would freeze off or if you’d finally let loose and be a wildcat. Your Dad’s still got power but you try me, I figure it would be worth his retribution to have a crack at you and find out.”

I turned to Jerry. “You do know I was raped, don’t you? You do know that every word out of your mouth makes you lower than low, slimier than slime, scumier than scum? Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

I saw we were getting close to the Nightingale Offices and I knew that was where he was going to let me off.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, put my hand on the door handle and kept my mouth shut until I had just enough time to say exactly what I wanted to say.

Then, when the time was right, I said it.

“Just to appease your curiosity, Jerry, I like it fast, hot, hard and rough and I like it slow, gentle and sweet. I like it any way Hector wants to give it to me and he gives it to me loads. So, you can tell those ass**les, being pansy-assed and afraid of my father, they missed out because I am a wildcat. And that’s why Hector’s getting it, because he’s not pansy-assed or afraid of anything.”

And before he came to a full stop or could say a word, I threw open the door, put my feet to the pavement and ran.

I didn’t look back. I went straight into the building, to the stairs not bothering with the elevator.

I rounded the landing on the first flight and slammed right into Mace.

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.