Pretty Lies, page 10
“I have my own place,” Della said, knowing good and damn well that she couldn’t just let this man railroad her every step of the way while he was made to watch her. “I don’t see why I can’t just go home tonight.”
“Because that’s the first place Luis’s guys would go, Della. Don’t worry, I’m sure he had someone follow us to make sure you were really going wherever I was. I don’t doubt he knows you’re here. It’s a lot harder to hit an apartment skyrise and get out clean than it is a fucking townhouse with a shitty little gate in front of your place keeping them away from the door.”
Well …
When he put it like that.
It wasn’t like Cory didn’t make good points. Della just … she really hated feeling like someone else was making the calls when it came to her. Especially if that person was a man. They all thought she couldn’t handle herself. That she was stupid or silly. A girl. They could and would do it better—she didn’t even get the option to show them how she might handle a bad situation.
Hell, Cory called her a girl moments ago.
Problem was, they had yet to let her prove differently.
Della was over it.
“Someone could be outside while I was home,” she snapped.
Cory arched a brow. “Yeah, me?”
She shrugged. “Isn’t that your job?”
He just laughed.
“I don’t see what’s funny, Cory.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He turned to head further into the apartment. Her annoyance blew to higher proportions.
“You’re just like the rest of them—you don’t care to hear anything I want or think.”
That had him swinging back around.
Fast.
He took two steps toward her, that gaze of his still keen and sharp on her like he was absorbing what she said and thinking about it before he replied. Coming to a stop midway down the hall, he let out a hard sigh.
Reserved?
Over it?
Della didn’t know.
She was all of it and more, though.
Her mood couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t made any better by the fact that the man a few steps away from her in worn leather and ripped denim frustrated her to no end—had done so all damn day—and yet all she could think about right then was how good he looked.
She couldn’t even just be pissed. No, she had to feel all the other shit he had bubbling inside of her, too.
“Listen,” Cory said, never moving from his spot down the hall as he spoke, “you can be pissed all you want about whatever you have going on, but you’re still not leaving my place tonight. For one, because when the sun’s down, guys like Luis rage the worst. If he gets in some kind of mood tonight about what happened, we don’t need to make it easier for him to find you. For two, you got feelings about shit I can’t help—clearly—but at the end of the day, I’m making the final call on where you’re going and what you’re doing. Because my job is watching your back and keeping you safe. End of discussion.”
Della’s jaw tensed, holding back a fuck you.
He honestly didn’t deserve it.
She knew that.
Still …
Turning, Cory waved a hand over his shoulder. Dismissive and cold, she thought. “I have some calls to make—you can take the bedroom at the end of the hall to use for the night. Tomorrow, we’ll handle the rest.”
Like her father.
Right.
She heard what he didn’t say.
Chances were, things weren’t going to get easier from here for her. With Luis making another move, even if it was just showing up while she was working, Della knew exactly what her father was going to do.
Safety came first. She was locked in with barricades everywhere. To a point, she understood the need. That didn’t mean she liked it.
“And,” Cory called, already gone from her view though his voice traveled from another room deeper in the dimly lit apartment, “when you feel like it, I would appreciate knowing if you have any other meetings with people or work that you plan to do behind Frankie’s back so that I can at least be kept in the loop, you know? If you’re going to play dangerous games, Della, I need to know about it.”
Dammit.
•••
“Sorry, I should have just done that job with you,” Jennika said on the call. “I tried to tell you that your dad was going to be pissed but you didn’t want to listen.”
“What difference would it have made?” she replied to her friend. “Someone else there for Cory to worry about, I guess.”
“Yeah, but still.”
“It’s over with.”
“No, it’s not,” Jennika said in a sigh. “Not even close. It’s Luis, babe. Now he’s got something on his mind—he’s always been like that.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Della just didn’t want to think about it.
“And speaking of Cory …”
“What about him?” Della asked, trying to keep her tone normal.
She didn’t need Jennika getting on that bone because her friend wouldn’t let it go. If she thought something was up between Della and Cory, she wouldn’t hear the last of it.
“You’re staying there for the night, huh?”
“Not by choice,” she muttered.
“You know, you say that like it’s a bad thing but … have you looked at that man?”
Regularly.
Too often.
Even when he knew she was.
Della couldn’t help it.
“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun,” Jennika said. “Get your mind off the ex that keeps chasing your ass all across the city.”
Right.
Chasing my ass. That was a good way to describe whatever cat and mouse game Luis thought he was playing with Della. Not.
Thankfully, the beep on the call—which told her she had another call coming through—saved her from deflecting or outright lying to Jennika. She checked the screen just to see who was calling.
J.
“I have to go—J’s calling.”
“Mmhmm,” her friend hummed, the teasing tone clear.
“He is.”
“Yeah, probably. Always worrying about you. They all do.”
Della sighed. “I know. Call me tomorrow, okay?”
“Soon as I crack my eyes open.”
“So, like noon?”
Jennika laughed, said her usual bye, bitch and then hung up the phone. Della had a laugh on her lips when she answered her brother’s call.
“Someone’s happy?” J asked before saying anything else.
Della calmed—a bit. She still smiled. “Just … Jennika. She called.”
“Right,” J said, something in his tone that she couldn’t quite decipher. Not that he gave her any time to think on it for long before he said, “I was having a drink with Dad when Cory called.”
“He handled—”
“Yeah, I know,” J interjected, “except Dad had questions, Della.”
Della blew out a hard breath. “Like what?”
“How Luis knew you were there? Where was Jennika? Or why you stayed longer at a place to collect a debt when you know to get in and out? These are the kind of questions he should ask considering that’s the shit keeping you safe when you work. You wanna keep doing it; he’s trying to let you, but—”
“How pissed is he?”
J eh’d under his breath. “About what you’d expect.”
“I only wanted to see what kind of info I might be able to pull about Luis. I had Cory there, right?”
“Yeah, but what if he hadn’t been there, Della? Shit.”
“Well, we’re never going to know, right?” she shot back. “I apparently can’t handle anything myself or even try.”
“Hey—”
“Just … let’s not and say we did,” she muttered, turning back to stare at the items hanging on the bedroom wall.
Not the bedroom she should be using, but …
Della surveyed the photographs on the wall of the hallway in Cory’s bedroom. The hallway outside led to the other bedroom and the bathroom. Which was currently closed with the sound of water running from behind the door. Cory headed straight for the shower after stepping out on the veranda for a blunt while he made the calls he needed to.
She almost joined him.
For the smoke.
Not the shower.
Although, she might like that, too.
God.
She needed to stop.
“I just want to know why you did that when you know we’re handling it?” J asked, bringing her back to the topic at hand.
“Because something isn’t right with this—Luis. I wanted to figure out what it was because everybody else is just worried about keeping an eye on me.”
It took her brother a second. Then, another.
“What do you mean?”
“Luis. This. Something doesn’t fit.”
She couldn’t put her finger on it and didn’t know where to start looking.
“Della,” her brother murmured.
“What?”
“You don’t know what we’re looking at. We haven’t told you. You think we haven’t noticed shit isn’t right with everything happening?”
She swallowed hard. The fucking mafia. It never let a woman in.
“Listen, I gotta go,” J said. “Keep your head down—we’ll meet up with Dad tomorrow and whatever else.”
She didn’t know if Cory mentioned he brought her to his place. At the moment, she also didn’t care to mention it herself.
“Sure,” she replied.
What else could she say?
•••
“Are you snooping through my shit?”
Della laughed, but only because she could hear the amusement in Cory’s tone. Turning from his nightstand with a tablet in her hands, she tried to punch in a four-digit code only to have it give her another error message.
“Well, I was,” she said, “when you were showering. Now, I just wanted to get some music playing because I have no idea how to run your stereo out there. And if I have to stay here all night when you didn’t even offer to smoke with me earlier, the least you could do is make it entertaining.”
Looking up from the tablet to give Cory a sardonic smile just because she could and she enjoyed being a smartass occasionally, Della’s breath caught hard in her chest. Leaning in the doorway of the bedroom, the man had nothing on but a gray towel wrapped around his waist. He rubbed his palms together, whatever lotion that was in his hands smearing over his freshly shaven jaw and down the strong column of his neck. She couldn’t have stopped the traveling of her gaze even if she wanted to.
For the first time, she had a good look at his ink.
The full sleeves made up of eagles, wings, skulls and different flowers. The large chest piece was much like his sleeves in that there was no cohesive theme. Just art everywhere. She bet she could spend a night tracing all of his tattoos and there would still be more to enjoy.
In color. Black and white. The lotus. Piercing bars in both nipples. The ink went down to his navel, a patch of uninked skin peeking out at her above the band of the towel. That fabric hung loosely at his hips—barely holding on at all, really. The railroad path of abs and the cut V of his groin had Della hot in a flash.
God, why?
He truly was the very incarnation of sex for her. Every part of her knew it and that was half the problem. He looked like a drug she could take and have a damn good time indulging, but where was the limit? She didn’t know how to draw lines. What happened if they crossed one?
“You wanna smoke?” Cory asked.
Della’s gaze darted up, and other than the pleased grin curving that sexy mouth of his, he didn’t say a thing about her ogling. “What?”
“Didn’t know you smoked. Not sure if you were the type. You wanna?”
Della’s throat jumped when his hands ran down his throat one last time. “I—”
“Or we can talk about what you found when you were snooping, too. Lady’s choice, babe.”
He winked. Those white teeth of his glinted at her when he flashed them in a sinful smile. She also realized then that the lotion he’d been putting on after his shower had a scent—a heady musk that reminded her of smoke and spice and sex.
His scent, she knew.
Just missing the jacket.
A weaker woman would have dropped to her knees.
Right fucking then.
Della held out.
Barely.
Instead, she decided to play his game because what choice did she have? If he was going to keep her there, she might as well make it worthwhile.
She set the tablet down to the nightstand—they could get music later—and pulled a perfectly rolled blunt where she’d hidden it in her bra. That was, after she found it in his nightstand.
“I already found your stash,” she said, “but I didn’t find much else. A closet of designer names. Box of rubbers in your bedside table. The sketchbook on your dresser was a surprise.”
“I draw as a hobby—I’m not that great at it.”
“You’re not horrible, either. What else?”
Cory chuckled. “My kicks game?”
His shoes, he meant.
Because if she’d been in his closet, she would have had to see those shoes of his. Though she’d only seen him in combat boots or black shoes, the man had piles of them in his closet. All different brands and styles and color. Honestly, they needed their own space because he’d run out of room in his closet.
“It’s rude,” she said. “How do you even fit that many shoes in there?”
Cory grinned. “I’m trying to find a bigger place, actually. Ma’s harping about a house—but that’s only because she wants me to have babies. Dad’s on her side because you know, that’s his wife. Joe tries to stay out of it, but he thinks I should spend some money. Monica just wants a place to crash on the weekends when she’s out too late and doesn’t want to have to call somebody to get her in the city.”
Then, he shrugged. “I just want some shelves for my shoes, so.”
“Your family—they’re close?”
“All of us. Me and my brother, though … it’s a bigger thing.” Cory nodded to the dresser. “In case you missed it, there’s a lighter in the mug on there.”
She had.
He’d smoked outside earlier, but didn’t seem to have a problem with her lighting up right there in his bedroom. She kept one eye on him as he headed for the walk-in closet until his inked, muscular back disappeared and all she was left with was the imprint the image of his body had made in her mind.
Goddamn.
The smoke in her lungs burned, but the weed had that good, heavy smell when she blew out a thick cloud to the brushed-nickel light fixture overhead. His whole place was kind of like his bedroom, really. Earthy tones. Dark-colored fixtures. Leather furniture. A game system in the living room. No TV in his bedroom. Gray hardwood. His family everywhere.
Like he wanted to see them always.
It reminded her of her own, really.
As annoyed as she was with her current situation and the way her brother and father were dealing with it, at the end of the day, they were still family. Still blood. That’s what counted the most for her.
Della pulled hard from the joint, holding the smoke in to let it do its thing as she asked, “So, are we going to talk about your connection to Luis?”
In two seconds, Cory came back into view. Or rather, he leaned backward enough for her to see his cocked eyebrow in the doorway. “Are we going to talk about yours?”
Well …
“I kind of already told you at the club.”
He considered that.
“Right—make it worth about a year, huh?” His gaze flicked up and down her as she released a thicker cloud of smoke than before. The weed was smooth though, so she wasn’t coughing.
Della shrugged, the weight of her dress feeling heavy when all she wanted right then was to be light. The smoke was doing a good job getting her there. The way Cory stared at her certainly helped, too.
“He’s exactly the type to make you think you’re the one while he’s fucking a different chick on every block. I bolted. Fast.”
Cory laughed. “Not a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well. Here we are. What about you?”
He sucked air through his teeth and dipped back out of her view while she went back to work on smoking the joint. Already the room was starting to get hazy with smoke and it would soon travel out of the opened doorway into the hall.
“We ran with the same crew of friends from around fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. We were seventeen and eighteen when shit changed. A lot of the guys went in different directions. Haven’t seen Luis in a while, and I’m cool with that. Could have been a while longer, really.”
“Sounds like old history.”
“Playground shit,” Cory returned from within the closet. “But it doesn’t matter. Guys like us don’t forget about what happened regardless of where it happened. I took the jacket—he wanted to change the rules. It was getting old anyway. Most of the guys were already up and gone doing their own thing. My uncle dragged me off to follow him, so I wouldn’t keep getting my ass in trouble. That’s the end of it.”
“What rules?”
Cory came back to the doorway. Only now he had gray sweatpants hanging low from his hips. Low enough that she could see the definition in his groin, and the dark dusting of trimmed hair that peeked out around the waistband.
“That’s the playground shit.”
Cory tipped his head to the side, eyeing the smoke in her hand while Della openly stared at the beautiful man across the room. It might have been the weed, but she was a lot less annoyed with being at his place. It wasn’t so bad.
Neither was he.
“Let me hit it,” he said, striding forward.
Della already had the joint held out for him to take. Instead, he closed the space between them in a breath until his mouth hovered above hers and all she could see was the glint in his eyes and that wicked grin of his.
“Shotgun it,” he murmured.
Della let out the lungful of smoke she’d been holding in, not even thinking it over before she did so. Cory inhaled it, and then Della put the joint to his lips for him to take a pull anyway straight from the blunt. His gaze locked onto hers and didn’t let go.
