Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(89)

This proved the wrong decision. The more I tried to avoid him, the less he seemed in control of his anger. I didn’t understand this reaction, but (for obvious reasons), I didn’t ask.

He dropped me off at the brownstone and I thought, considering his temper still hadn’t cooled, that would be that. However, that wasn’t that because he kissed me at the door.

Yes!

Kissed me!

This was not like any other kiss he’d given me. His fingers drove into my hair, cupping the back of my head, tilting it up and using it to pull me forward. I fell into him, my hand at his chest, and his mouth came down on mine hard. It was an angry kiss and because of that, so hot and intense, it stole my breath and my ability to stand on my own two feet.

When my hand was clutching his shirt at his chest, my other arm was wrapped around his waist and my torso was plastered to his, his head came up and he scorched me with a Hector Glare.

“Ten to four, I’ll pick you up at the gallery. Don’t make any f**kin’ plans tonight,” he ordered, his voice deep, low and vibrating with unhappy emotion.

Before I could remind him about YoYo’s arrival and my plan to be there when we got the dog, he was gone, leaving me swaying unsteadily in his wake.

“Holy Hot Blooded Latinos, sweets, what on earth was that all about?” Ralphie asked, wide eyes on the door.

My head was beginning to pound. Three nights of interrupted sleep and weeks of intense emotion were getting to me. After all that fantastic sex (four times!), I should have been relaxed and lose enough to do gymnastics. Instead, I was wound up tight.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told Ralphie.

And I really, really didn’t.

“But –” Ralphie started.

I shot him a pleading look. “Please, please, Ralphie. I need quiet. I need peace. And, above all, I need time to get my head together.”

Ralphie snapped his mouth shut, looking at me closely. I knew he was dying to know what was going on. Instead, he nodded and, to my shock, he left me alone all day to get my head together.

And get it together I did.

I formed several plans of action.

Depending on what Hector’s next move was, mine would be a move to do one thing.

Protect myself until I could disappear.

And off to Crete I’d go. I’d tell Bex where to find me, she could tell Detective Marker how to get hold of me if the police needed me, but, other than that, I was gone.

As for finding my Mom, well, Lee Nightingale wasn’t the only private investigator in the world. There were others. I’d hire one of them, find Mom and bring her to me and she and I would eat souvlaki and pita bread (or whatever) and I’d work my way through all the Greek men on Crete who took my fancy but I wouldn’t give a single one of them my heart.

No f**king way.

My heart was for me and me alone and, obviously, my Mom (when I found her), and Ralphie and Buddy, who I’d keep contact with of course, and, maybe, Daisy and the Rock Chicks, if I could manage that without the involvement of Hector.

As for Hector, I knew the Ice Princess didn’t work, so I settled on another strategy. I knew it would cost me but I was willing to pay the price.

There was going to be a New New Sadie. I was calling her Pretend Sadie and she was going to protect me.

It would make it easier in the long run, even though it would be far more difficult for the short one.

But I could do it. I lived twenty-nine years with my father pretending to be someone I was not. I could live a few weeks guarding my heart from Hector “Oh my God” Chavez.

And guard it I would.

* * * * *

At ten to four, Hector picked me up from the gallery.

I was kind of hoping that he’d cool off by the time he came but one look at him told me this was absolutely not the case.

So be it.

I could work with that.

There was only one hitch on the way to the Nightingale Investigations offices. They were just around the corner from Art, maybe two blocks away. Still, Hector drove it and as we approached the entrance to the garage, I audibly sucked in breath.

I’d forgotten about the garage.

My last time in the garage had not been a happy memory.

I wasn’t ready to go back there again.

Hector heard me, he muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath, pulled out of his approach and rounded the block, parking on the street.

With effort, I forced my body to relax.

Before getting out, his hand wrapped around my neck and he turned me to face him. He was leaning toward me but not as close as he normally got. I noticed this and it made something ugly twist inside me, something which I firmly set aside.

“I didn’t think, the garage –” he said to me, his eyes were masked but his voice was soft.

“That’s okay,” I replied quickly.

He didn’t let me go and his eyes scanned my face.

“Who’s with me now?” he asked.

“Me,” I answered immediately.

His eyes narrowed. “Which ‘me’?”

“Me, me,” I replied, as if there had always been only one (hardly!).

This answer didn’t make him happy and that’s when he got as close as he normally did.

I held my breath and braced (it was a good thing too).

“If I didn’t know it was worth it. If I didn’t know from what happened last night and, whatever the f**k you thought it was, mamita, what happened this morning. And if I didn’t like your hands in my hair holding my mouth to you, the smell of your f**kin’ perfume when I’m buried inside you and the way you lose that tight-as-shit control over every f**kin’ move you make when you get excited and you use your nails and teeth on me, I’d give up, because, mamita, you are one serious pain in the ass.”