Swallowing, I force myself to look him in the eye.
“This is your life, your choice and no one can take that from you. All I want is a chance to choose a life that I love too.”
He doesn’t respond, but that’s nothing new.
“Going home,” I say, pausing to swallow the boulder clogging my throat. “Home, Dad, where all our pictures are, and Grandma’s china sits in the cabinet untouched.”
Home, where corruption and chaos don’t live.
“Please don’t follow me.”
I probably shouldn’t have stormed out of the clubhouse until I persuaded Mouse to hook me up with a license, but no, I had to go all girl and get emotional without pinning the tech guy to the wall. Something I realize as soon as I pull my Harley into the driveway and drop down my kickstand.
Without a license, Penelope won’t be able to process me as a new hire…again. That’s gotta be three strikes against me. Looks like instead of playing with paperclips and Post-its tomorrow I’ll be filing for unemployment.
Feeling discouraged, I rip the helmet from my head and throw my leg over the side of the bike. I dig into my back pocket for the house key and my stomach growls as I start for the door. Another thing I should’ve done was stop for food. Neither me nor dad have been here in over month. If there is anything in the fridge, it’s probably expired.
“Curly Sue.”
No fucking way.
Any moment now the guys with the hidden cameras are going to jump out of the bushes and with any luck I’ll be on one of those shows where they offer you a cash prize for scaring the living shit out of you.
I slowly turn around and sure enough, my eyes connect with Marco’s. I feel a hint of hysteria creep into my being as I shake my head in disbelief.
“Before you go on and say I’m stalking you, I swear that’s not what this is,” he defends, and my eyes widen even more.
At this rate, they may just fall out of my head.
“The fact you’re standing on my front lawn proves otherwise. What are you doing here—better yet, how the hell do you know where I live?”
“Well—”
“No,” I interrupt, raising my hands to my head. I thread my fingers through my curls and take a step closer to him. “Don’t answer that. Of course you know where I live, you probably know my blood type and what color underwear I’m wearing too.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I don’t know your blood type but if you want to tell me the color of your underwear, I should probably buy you dinner first.”
It takes a lot to render me speechless—well, at least that’s what I thought. Apparently, all it takes is for a cop to stalk me and offer to buy me dinner.
He is offering, right?
I shake my head again, this time a little firmer as I push the ridiculous notion out of my head.
“Look, I have had a day. A really shitty day and there’s not much more I can take, so if you’re here to give me another ticket or better yet arrest me then do it already,” I tell him.
Closing the distance between us, Marco comes to a halt and flashes me a crooked smile. I don’t know what is more lethal, that smile or the scent of his cologne. Deciding they’re both too much for me right now, I take a step back. What is that thing that everyone talks about? Something about mercury and retrograde, and when it happens, the whole fucking world flips on its axis. Everything spirals out of control. This must be that.
“Mercury is in retrograde and the world is ending,” I mumble.
He laughs.
Forget the cologne.
Forget the smile.
His laugh is the most dangerous of all.
I’m so screwed.
“I didn’t come here to arrest you, although I suddenly wish I had my handcuffs with me,” he teases. He reaches into his back pocket and curiously I narrow my eyes as he brings his hand back around. He lifts my license between his fingers and I feel my blood pressure spike instantly.
The son of a bitch really did steal my license.
Chapter Five
Marco
“Thief!”
The playful smirk falls from my lips as she lunges for me. My instincts kick into gear before she can pluck the license from my fingers and attack me. I wrap my free hand around her wrist and pin it to the small of her back. It’s a move I’ve made countless times, however, I’m usually trying to disarm a man my size, not a svelte little vixen—something I realize the second her body presses against mine.
“Get your hands off of me,” she hisses as she glares up at me from the fringe of her long, dark lashes. Enthralled by the fire in her eyes, my fingers tighten around her wrist. I’m about to explain why I have her license and how I went out of my way to get it, but my gaze falls to her lips and I lose all train of thought.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
My brain still manages to function to a degree, and I wonder if her lips are as soft as they look. I damn Soraya to hell, because if it wasn’t for her filling my head with all that shit earlier, I’d be home watching the Yankee game. Instead, I’m standing here, letting this chick play Russian roulette with my balls.
For real.
Her knee misses the Pirelli family gems by a hair and snaps me out of my fucking trance. Still holding her hands behind her back, I drop my hand that holds her license to my junk and shield my innocent cock from the nutcase itching to put him out of commission.
“Jesus Christ,” I growl. “Would you calm the fuck down?”
I come in peace!
“You want me to calm down? First, you pull me over—”
“Oh, for the love of God, not this again,” I hiss, shaking my head. At this rate, I’m going to need to make a pit-stop at the church and cleanse my soul from all the swearing and damning the Lord I’ve been doing since I met this chick.
“Not this again?” she admonishes, her tone rising to heights no one with a New York accent should ever attempt unless they’re auditioning for the reboot of Fran Drescher’s classic, The Nanny, and even then, they should refrain.
“Yes, not this again,” I repeat, gritting my teeth. “We both know how the story ends.”
I should let her go.
Throw her license at her and get the fuck out of here, but I’m an idiot. An idiot who loosens his hold for a split second because he really digs the fire in her eyes. She takes a step closer and my brain shorts as soon as her thigh brushes against my dick. Not only am I sparring on the front lawn with this crazed girl, but I’m also getting a semi while doing so. If that ain’t a sure sign to throw in the towel and run, I don’t know what is.
“Yeah, it ends with you manhandling me on my front lawn after stealing my license and me dropkicking your ass,” she spats, blowing a wayward curl from her face.
If I thought she was bluffing, I might let this shit play out, but I’m not about to have my ass. Deciding it's time to set her straight, I release her.
“I didn’t fucking steal your license,” I grind out. My patience teeters and I think I’m more aggravated with myself than with Antonia. I want to blame Soraya for filling my head, but she didn’t suggest I go looking for the license and she sure as fuck isn’t the reason I’m here now. Instead of waiting for her to come home, I could’ve dropped the thing in her mailbox or given it to Soraya.