Pretty Lies, page 8
Jesus.
“What’s wrong with my jacket? It’s vintage Saint Laurent. It’s scuffed and worn and broke in because that’s what you do to a jacket like this. It’s what makes it a staple.”
Yeah, she knew that.
All about it, in fact.
And if she were being an honest woman, she would say his jacket with the YSL patch on the chest, the row of safety pins along the pocket, the white FUCK U graffiti on the left wrist of the sleeve, and slightly frayed belt kind of pulled his entire vibe together. She liked it. Far more than she should.
“This jacket was the shit when I was young and stupid, damn,” Cory muttered, settling slightly but not looking her way now. “Our whole group of friends fought over it for years—if you could take it off somebody and put it on yourself, it was yours. Finally got it when I was sixteen. It was a size too big back then, but I didn’t care. A soul hasn’t taken it off me yet.”
And they wouldn’t, she bet.
Della huffed. “I like the jacket.”
His crooked grin from the side caught her eye.
She didn’t acknowledge it.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
Then, he laughed a sound that was enough to make Della’s air catch in her throat. His gaze slid toward her, his eyes an icy in the morning daylight yet still blazing with heat, when he said, “Just say what it is, yeah?”
“What, what is?”
Cory’s tongue snaked out to lick along his bottom lip, a grin curving that too-sexy mouth of his in a grin when he told her, flat-out and unashamed, “You know, woman. That we just had a whole conversation about my jacket so that we wouldn’t have to talk about the fact you got in your feelings that I was on the phone with Monica.”
He flipped his phone around and held his hand high for her to see the picture of a dark-haired, teenage girl taking a selfie with a rottweiler. Never once did he move his gaze from the road ahead of them, entirely unbothered.
That annoyed her more. Especially because she had to look twice to make sure she was seeing what she was seeing on the text message thread, and she was sure he didn’t miss her doubletake. Wasn’t it supposed to be her making his life hell?
“Yeah, little Mon. Who is also my baby sister, by the way,” Cory added, finally glancing at her with a pleased smirk. “She’s keeping an eye on my dog, Mace, this week. Depending on how long this job for your father takes me, she might keep him a little longer.”
Then, Cory tucked his phone away and readjusted himself in the seat, so he could lean one arm against the door while he watched her drive. That was not better for Della at all. “So yeah, that thing you did—back to that. Let’s talk about that.”
Shame raced through her.
It might have felt a little good, too.
Cory winked.
“Fuck you, Rossi.”
“Yeah, babe, maybe.” He flashed his teeth and nipped the air before he added, “Later, if you’re really good.”
Della went slack-jawed.
The nerve on him.
Cory’s hot, heady laughter filled the car. Why did he have to look like that when he laughed? All sin and good looks with charm and charisma wrapped up in black denim and leather? Never had the world threw a challenge at her quite like this man.
“I’m fucking with you,” he said after his chuckles died down, his stare flicking up and down her from the side while she tried to pay attention to the road. Traffic was getting thick. “But you don’t look like you mind that much. Gotta pass the time somehow, right?”
At least he was honest.
“Honestly, I only got in my feelings, as you said, because I thought you were being a shit. It’s just … women need to watch out for each other. And yeah, I didn’t know if that’s what you were doing. Whether you had somebody waiting on you while you chased ass across the city, that’s all. Or if you were that kind of guy, I guess.”
Cory chewed on the stick of mint gum, and she watched each flex of his jaw out of the corner of her eye. “All right, fair enough.”
She noticed he didn’t say whether he was that type of guy. Then again, they weren’t anything to each other, and he didn’t have to tell her fuck all.
Still …
Why did he have to look so good?
Sound so good?
Why did he have to be at all?
She knew he was only flirting with her, and yet, the man was so entirely overwhelming that even this felt like foreplay. On another day, that might not be so bad for Della. Right then when she had to be in the right headspace for business, and the situation she found herself in with Cory, to begin with?
She couldn’t focus at all.
“You’re …”
He chuckled. “A lot, huh?”
Oh, good.
He knew it, too.
“Want me to dial it back a touch?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“Whatever you need, princess. Wouldn’t want to be a distraction while you do your job.”
At first, she thought he might have been poking fun. Instead, he righted himself in the seat, switched the song to another on the playlist, and asked, “How close are we to your first stop today?”
“Three blocks.”
“Who is it?”
“A doctor with a gambling and sex habit, oh and a private clinic that he uses to treat wealthy patients.”
Cory whistled low. “Yeah, damn. Where’s your friend?”
“She’ll meet me there. You just—”
He gave her a smile from the side. “Don’t even think about me. Do your job. I’ll do mine.”
Right.
He was her walking wet dream come true. All she could think about was him.
Della liked it a whole lot that he was looking at her with the same glint in his eye that she was sure he found in hers. Somehow, this was going to be a problem. She was sure of it. Life hadn’t proved her differently with men like Cory yet.
•••
“Oh, our new friend is joining us today?” Jennika asked.
Della stood next to her friend in the luxurious waiting room of a doctor’s office. No clients—or patients, she supposed—waited in the leather seats, and the girl behind the desk had already noticed their arrival and had picked up her phone to make whatever call she needed. This wasn’t their first rodeo here, after all.
“Ignore him,” Della said to Jennika, referring to Cory who stayed a few paces back, closer to the bank of elevators that had brought them up to the office. Despite what her father wanted, she was not letting Jennika collect payments from debtors on her own. Not that she couldn’t do it, but sometimes the girl got out of control. Simple as that. “Plan is still the same. We’ve got the strip club later in the week, too, but that’s your choice to come along.”
“Your dad wants—”
“The guy always pays. Never any trouble. It’ll be fine if you don’t want to come.”
“Okay.” Jennika sighed and gave Della a pout before she grinned with a gaze that darted to the man behind them. “So, I can’t play with him later, then?”
A hot shot of something scored straight through Della’s gut. She knew exactly what it was—that possessive streak of hers couldn’t be contained. Not that she had any reason to be feeling something like that. Shit, she hadn’t even felt that way in the car earlier.
“No,” Della said, the word clipped.
If her friend noticed, Jennika didn’t say.
Thankfully.
“It’s cool,” Jennika said, taking a step forward in her black, bodycon dress with matching black pumps that showed off red soles with every step she took toward the receptionist’s desk, “because he’s too busy looking at you, anyway.”
What?
Della glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Cory’s gaze met hers where he still stood at the elevators. He tipped his chin, as though he were silently asking what’s up and flashed those white teeth of his in a smile.
He was her bodyguard. Right? Wasn’t he supposed to watch her?
But … like that?
“Dr. Kohoney is available to you ladies whenever you’re ready,” the receptionist chirped with a quietness that spoke of her fear. Well, Della understood why. The last time they were here, she left the woman’s boss unconscious and bleeding on his desk. That’s what happened when someone came up thirty-thousand short on their loan payment.
Jennika hadn’t even made it to the woman’s desk. She changed her direction to head for the hallway leading deeper into the office with a wink and grin back at Della. She followed her friend even though it should have been her leading the front. Behind her, Cory walked at a snail’s pace but didn’t say a thing. She had to keep checking just to make sure he was coming along.
Della wished she could say she was surprised to find the good doctor already had stacks of cash sitting on the desk in neat piles, ready for Jennika to pick up with a whistle that cut through her stark red lips.
Della stayed just beyond the private office’s door. “Count it.”
Jennika glanced her way. “Yeah?”
She only stared at the doctor who sat behind his desk, sweating a little too much for her liking. The soles of Cory’s leather shoes—she noticed he’d not worn his usual combat boots today; maybe he thought they’d be walking a lot—squeaked on his last step directly behind her. She didn’t turn around; didn’t want to acknowledge him. He wasn’t there to scare those who owed her father; that’s what she was there to do.
She didn’t want people getting it confused.
“Yeah, count it,” she confirmed.
The doctor—a one, Jeffery Kohoney—desperately needed to keep his secret life hidden from his current wife that was dragging him through divorce courts after learning of his multiple affairs. Shit, the woman hadn’t even scratched the surface yet of what her husband had done.
“It’s all there,” the doctor said, coughing.
Della tipped her head to the side. “You said that last month. You were four thousand short, then, too, which tipped you just beyond thirty-k short on your interest overall.”
“I caught it all up. And the interest you wanted.” His hands rose higher, palms up. “I swear.”
“But can you keep it up?”
That was the real question.
The man swallowed hard.
Della only smiled.
Letting her purse hang from her wrist, she pulled out the switchblade she always kept close at hand to fiddle with while Jennika did the counting. The silence in the room seemed to grow and swell, reminding her of every single reason why she enjoyed doing what she did. While she had the chance to check, she found Cory admiring the framework on a piece of artwork next to the door in the hallway. He glanced her way, that eyebrow of his darting up before he quickly went back to his … whatever he was doing.
Hey, he’d not stepped in.
Didn’t say a thing.
She appreciated that.
“It’s all there,” Jennika finally said fifteen minutes later.
Her friend lifted her large purse to the desk.
Della nodded at the money, and then to the doctor. “Pack it up. It was good seeing you today, Dr. Kohoney. My father appreciates the business.”
The good doctor smiled.
It wasn’t at all true.
“Of course, Miss Costello.”
Pressing the switch on the hilt, she closed the blade on the knife and dropped it into her bag. Without waiting to watch if the money would be quickly packed up—she knew it would; Jennika’s job was to handle the cash, mostly. Turning on her booted heels, she left the office without a look back.
Cory was quick to follow, but not without glancing back.
“She that type—you both good?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Jennika. I mean, you kind of have to trust her if you’re leaving her with money.”
“It’s always been her, J, and I. Usually just me and her, now. But yeah, we’ve been friends since we were in high school.”
Cory nodded, but his gaze never left her. Even when she wasn’t looking at him, Della could feel his stare. That was more unsettling than anything else.
“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked as they came back out to the reception area. In front of the bank of elevators, the two watched one another. “Stare at me like that. I get it. You probably know it, too. I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. There—it’s been said.”
Cory grinned. “I don’t see the problem.”
“Can we not make it into a thing?”
He said nothing. That same cocky smile played on his mouth. She needed the strength of saints to deal with this man.
“Could you make it less obvious, then?” she asked.
“Do we get what we want that way?”
Goddamn him.
“Cory—”
She turned his way as the elevator opened, ready to tell him to dial it back again. His next words stopped her from saying anything and told her he wouldn’t stop staring any time soon.
“You’re kind of all … put together, you know?” A chuckle escaped that sinful mouth of his when he added, “You seem it, anyhow. But you can cut a man, too, I bet. Didn’t miss how the good doc kept rubbing the scar on his hand and looking at your blade, right. Or how you get pink in your cheeks like when we were in the car. Except you’re a little wild, too, huh? The club. It’s like—shit, you don’t stop changing faces, Della. Don’t blame me for being interested in which one is about to come out and play.”
Now, it was her swallowing hard.
Cory just shrugged. “So, what’s up next?”
Right.
Work.
Back to work.
•••
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
It was a motto Della had adopted recently. Though she was walking a line of fire with what she hoped to gain through the venture she would attempt today, if it worked out, then what did a little burn matter? At least, that’s what she would tell herself if everything crashed and burned straight to hell. Because if nothing was ventured, then nothing would be gained.
So, when a chance presented itself to have a sit-down with a connection she had made—during the spell of her relationship with Luis—to another gang leader in the city and discuss what, if anything, the man knew about her attack and Luis’s possible involvement, she decided to have it. Without her father or brother’s knowledge.
Why?
Because that was her contact’s request. He didn’t want to fuck with the mob—didn’t need the Outfit in his shit.
But her?
He’d talk to her. And if he had something good to tell, or Della thought she might be able to solve the issue, if there actually was one, with Luis through Thion Dirks, then she would do exactly that. If it meant her father no longer felt like she was in danger and all their current problems went away to remove Luis from the picture altogether, then Della was willing to do that.
First, she needed to talk to Thion.
Or Dirks, as he preferred.
Unfortunately, the only time Della had been able to find to meet with the gang leader of the west end was after her meeting with the strip club owner that couldn’t seem to get himself out from under her father’s thumb in his constant debt. Which was fine, in a way, because no one would think it was strange for Della to be here—she stopped in once a month to collect money from the owner, anyway.
She simply hadn’t mentioned her other meeting.
What did it matter?
Jennika decided to go and have her nails done with the promise of picking up the rest of the cash to deliver to Della’s father later—Frankie would be expecting it. Everything else that day went perfectly fine.
And Cory?
Well, in the duration of her meeting with the owner of the strip club, she’d lost track of him. In the flashing purple and red strobes, dancing girls on their platforms and poles, and the black lights overhead, it was hard for Della to discern what was what through the crowd.
Soon enough, she did find him.
Sitting in a corner booth, a woman danced in a fishnet bodysuit that hid nothing but for a scrap of fabric, one might call it a G-string. Even that was too nice. Cory wasn’t even watching the woman, though. He was looking straight at Della. His gaze slid to the woman who dipped low with her ass high at the same time, and then right back to Della. His jaw flexed rhythmically; a sign he’d popped in another piece of gum from the pack she noticed he liked to keep on him.
She had to give him credit.
Even if part of her wanted to rip his eyeballs out—for being there at all; also because he put her on edge without doing a thing; and maybe a little because the stripper was too close to him—he’d done everything he said he would during their first week working together. Didn’t step in on her business. Never made his presence more obvious than it had to be. Kept his distance.
So far, he kept his word.
Points in his favor.
It was the crowd of men dressed in black and leather that pulled Della’s attention away from the man that seemed to be on her mind a little too much lately. They strolled into the main floor of the club with an aura that screamed we own it all and back off. Another time and that might have excited her.
Now, it only meant one thing.
The first words to come out of her mouth?
“I should have known.”
Because that wasn’t Dirks at all. Her meeting had been canceled, it seemed. There stood Luis. Someone was definitely going to get hurt.
NINE
“THAT’S NOT GOOD,” Cory said aloud, his attention switching from one conversation to something else entirely all in a single second.
The stripper on the platform in front of his current position in a corner booth continued working the pole as though he’d shown her any attention in the last half hour that she’d been dancing for him. Not that he had been watching her.
She wasn’t his job.
The thing about Cory, though?
