by Bex Dane
He slowly shakes his head, and his eyes wrinkle as a grin teases his lips. "You want to go with me on a check in?"
Why is this so surprising to him? Wouldn't anybody want to take care of people who need it, even if they are strangers? "Yes. That was brutal. I'm sure they need some comforting right now. If I can help, I want to."
"All right. You ready?" His gaze travels down to the riding boots and back up to my eyes. He smirks and looks at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Oh Lord. I'm a mess of crooked sweater dress, fluffed hair, and smudged lipstick. My Blondie look has turned into a hooker gone wrong. "Let me just uh, fix myself up for a second."
He laughs and walks out of the bathroom as I straighten my clothes, fix my makeup, and take a deep breath.
Chapter 9 Pink Door
Cutter
"Asshole."
A semi cuts in front of me as my truck is gearing down to enter the steepest section of the Sepulveda Pass.
Cass's eyes track our movements, but she doesn't lose her train of thought as I switch lanes and pass the truck. She's been talking for most of the drive back to Los Angeles. Normally I'd turn up the music on a chatty girl, but I like listening to her. She spent the last three hours trying to get in the head of all nine of my siblings, plus Foster and Mila. I could have done without all the talk about Mace, but she picked up on subtle clues he gave and figured out he had a girl on his mind and he hasn't been able to contact her. I'll have to ask Mace more about that next time I see him.
She wasn't kidding last night when she said she cared about my family. At each check in, she'd introduced herself and asked if she could be part of it then she listened like a pro, called out stuff that was left unsaid, and gave quiet support without being intrusive.
All her talking also keeps us from acknowledging the elephant in the cab of my truck. The kiss we shared last night. Damn, that was something. Instant fireworks, just like the first time. She's sexy as hell with her cute and nice act, but she likes it dirty when she's lit too. Fuck. I almost had my dick in there with our clothes on. I'd love to do it again without all the fabric between us. Nope. Not letting this go anywhere. I'll leave her and move on. Course this time I'll be stuck with the image of rutting up against her with that dress hiked up around her waist and the riding boots digging into my ass.
"Mila needs to get out to the city more. A few nights out, get dressed up. Not a lot. Just enough to remind her she has all she needs at home." Cass continues with her analysis of my family.
"Mila left city life behind," I say.
"Not all of it. In her closet…" She presses her lips together like she's trying to avoid spilling personal stuff Mila shared with her last night.
I slice one eye in her direction, keeping the other one on the traffic. "I know what's in my mom's closet. She has fancy dresses and shit in there. Stuff from her society days."
She blows out a long breath, relieved I said what she was thinking. "Right. Why would she keep them if she didn't want to wear them?"
"Did you see him kiss her after the fight last night?"
"Everyone did." She turns away to look at the view of the ocean and the shrubs in the valleys next to the highway, but I can tell she's getting uncomfortable.
"Their relationship doesn't need any fuel. I've been watching them make out since I was sixteen. You put her in those jeans, and he jumped her on the stage. She wears one of those dresses, they'll be popping out accidental baby number three."
She laughs and her lips sputter.
"But you're right," I say. She looks back at me. "My mom lived the life of a cush socialite, and now she's a rugged full-time mom of ten. She busted out the shotgun last night to protect us. She deserves more nights out on the town. I'll talk to my dad. Offer to babysit."
She smiles and nods. "Good. Oh, and she can go out with me. Girls' night. We could be besties. Course I have a bestie already, but she'd fit right in with my posse."
"Mmm." I'm not saying shit about her making friends with Mila. If they want to do that, leave me out of it. I'm dropping this girl off and getting back to hunting Arthur.
"I mean why would he do that? What about you bothers him so much?" She's onto some other topic already.
"Who?"
"Jareth. Why did he bring all those guys up to your family's property to start a fight? It seems so pointless."
I don't want to gossip with her, but she seems genuinely curious out of caring for my family. "It wasn't about Pepper. He doesn't give a shit about her. We're a threat to his gym buddies who pump up but don't fight. All bulk, no skills. That's why we took them on last night even though we were outnumbered. We knew we could win."
She crosses her arms and pouts. "I'm just so angry about what he said about your family."
Me too. What he said about my mom and my family lit my fuse and I lost my cool. Again. "I don't give a shit what people say."
"He damaged your reputation." She's angry at Jareth, but she's indirectly saying he told the world I'd pulled a knife on a girl.
"He didn't do shit." I'd already done that myself.
For the first time since she got in my truck, she's quiet. The truth floats unsaid in the air of the cab. She's talked about everyone's problems except mine. The knife comes up and it silences her. Good. I don't want to talk about it.
She looks at her watch. This sucks. If I were her, I'd be counting the minutes till I was away from me too.
Her phone pings and she reads a text. "Darn."
"What?"
"Dangit. Dangit. Crap."
"What?" Why do I care so much who is texting Cass?
"My roomies cancelled on me for tonight." She throws her head back and slams her phone to her thigh.
"You had plans tonight?" We hit a patch of dense traffic near the peak of the pass, and I have to slow down. This gives me a chance to look over at her.
"I have reservations. I can't cancel. I'll lose my money. It's non-refundable." Her face is so tortured and animated. It's cute.
"Where?" I'm still not following why this is such a huge deal.
"It had to be tonight." She slaps her leg in frustration.
"Woman. What the hell are you talking about?"
"The Queen Mary. I have a reservation tonight. We had plans to go ghost hunting."
She had plans to go ghost hunting at an old floating hotel down in Long Beach? That ocean liner is permanently docked as a tourist attraction. Locals don't really go there. I guess since she's from Roswell, she doesn't know this. "The ghosts will have to wait."
"This is the one day in the whole year, my horoscope said tonight two spirits would collide. One day!"
I give her the side-eye, but she looks serious. "You're shitting me."
"No. Tonight's the night. Darn. Tash and Laith said they had to go to Laith's parents' house for some kind of emergency, but we've had this planned for months. I guess I'm going by myself then. I admit it's a little scary thinking of being out on the deck alone at three in the morning."
Why the fuck would she do that? "Just cancel it."
"No. Darn. I should've invited Mace. He said he wanted to go ghost hunting with me."
My fists grip the wheel, and I crank up the music to tune her out. We're quiet in my truck for the ride into the city. Mace is my brother and I love him but he's a tumbleweed made of razor blades. He slices through women fast and leaves them cut up and broken. She wouldn't be right for him at all. I suppose I'm like that too, but more literally. I've never actually cut someone else, but I've lost control more than once and came close. Cass is like a danger magnet. Both of us need to stay far away from her and let her live her life.
"So you worked at Blackie's deli?" she asks me out of the blue.
"Who told you that?"
"Mila."
I turn down the radio. "What else did she tell you?"
"Not much."
"Did she give you my entire resume?"
"No. Why? What's on your resume?"
"Nothing." Mila wouldn't betray me by telling too much to Cass.
She pulls up her phone and is clearly looking me up. "You were a professional fighter?"
Hopefully she doesn't look too closely. I usually wore a shirt and the tattoos cover the scars in most of the pictures, but there are some pictures of my back where they are very prominent.
She puts down her phone. "You still fighting?"
"No." I like that she's asking me instead of trying to read about me online.
"Why?"
"I didn't want to be famous. News coverage. People delving into your personal life." I shrug my shoulders. That's not the whole story, but part of it. I didn't want to drag my parents into the spotlight, opening them up to criticism from their past ties to the mafia. It happened last night anyway, but it wasn't because I put myself on TV.
"You didn't want to be famous?"
In Hollywood, that's like blasphemy.
"No," I say quietly.
"What was in your past you didn't want people to talk about?"
This is getting personal. I can tell her part of the truth. Maybe she should know who she's dealing with. "I got a criminal record. Didn't want it aired publicly. Reflect bad on Foster and Mila. Raise all kinds of questions."
"What did you do?"
"Those are the questions I wanted to avoid."
"You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." She puts one knee up on the bench of the truck and turns toward me.
"Disorderly conduct. Assault. Robbery." It sucks admitting it to her. Whatever positive thoughts she might have had should be wiped away now.
"Wow. You must have been desperate if you were breaking the law. Was this before you met Foster and Mila?"
God, Cass is endlessly compassionate and trusting. Her optimism is charming but also gets her in trouble. "Robbery was before. I was stealing food. Assault came after. Getting into fights before I had control. Foster and I trained full-time on karate, judo, jiu-jitsu, any martial art you can think of, we trained. He was trying to keep me busy and channel my energy."
"Did it work?"
"Yeah. I was good. Made it to the MMA intro rounds. You know what happens next." I point to her phone in her lap. "Fought for a year. Made it to the pros. Got the contract. Quit while I was ahead. Now I just teach."
"You don't regret not making it big?"
People ask me that a lot, and it's hard to explain. "It wasn't my dream. I was fighting demons. Quitting fighting was a step forward for me. Meant I didn't need to get my ass kicked to live in my skin. I still need to fight. Every day. But not on TV and not with the lights and the crowds. I don't need it to prove I'm good." I don't think I've ever put it into words like that, but maybe that's why I quit.
"Wow. Thanks for sharing. What demons did you have?"
I knew she'd go there. "I'll tell you someday." I have no intention of ever seeing her again or telling her about my demons. She's sweet, but I'm not putting that on her.
We pass under the 10 freeway and travel deeper into the deterioration and poverty in The Palms. It's not the worst neighborhood in LA, but it's no place for her.
My truck barely fits into the red zone in front of her apartment building. "Wait right there." I get out and walk around the front of my truck to open her door for her. I'm dropping her off as planned and not worrying about what she does tonight.
She gets out and looks up at me. "Bye, Cutter." Her angel-blue eyes draw me in. Why does she have to be so innocent and sexy at the same time?
"Bye, Cass." There's that punch to my gut I get every time I think about leaving her here. It's not just the neighborhood. It's everything about her. She's so gentle and caring yet she goes out looking for trouble and finds it.
When she grabs the doorknob of her flamingo-pink door, I grip her arm above her elbow. She stops and glares back at me. "Is there a problem?"
"Your roommates aren't home?" I ask her.
"No. They said they had to go out of town."
I let go of her arm and the punch to my gut is like a pummeling jackhammer telling me she's not safe here. In my mind, I see someone like Arthur breaking down that paper-thin wooden door and getting to her. I see bullets flying through her window and killing her while she's putting lipstick on her sweet lips.
"You canceling the ghost hunting?" I say it with a warning tone like I expect her to say yes.
"No. I'll do it alone. I'm not missing my chance. It's the perfect night, I have the reservation, and this is my second attempt."
"What happened to your first attempt?"
"Dayton."
"Who's that?"
"My ex. Remember?" She stares at me like it's obvious.
"No."
"The one who can't solve nature's Rubik's Cube?"
Oh. The yuppie guy at the bar who put his hands on her. Yeah, that was funny how she called him out on that. What kind of man doesn't know how to please a woman? "Oh, that asswipe? Did you dump him after that night?"
"Hell yes. He still drunk dials me for booty calls." She laughs to herself like this is a cute thing he does.
Say what now? "You still have booty calls with him?"
"No way. I tell him to sober up and get lost." She scrunches her brow like the idea of sleeping with him is repulsive.
"Good. Listen. You need to watch over yourself." She rolls her eyes. "Prowling around alone late at night on a ship isn't safe." She smashes her lips together. She's gonna fight me on this, but someone needs to tell her the truth. "Parties with Arthur Morganstein aren't safe. And while I'm at it, this apartment sucks."
She looks back at her useless pink door. "You don't like my apartment?"
"I grew up in South Central. This is better than that by a long shot, but you're on the bottom floor with no fencing, no wall. The door is as strong as paper and that window can't stop a bullet from piercing your head." It's a stupid, useless pink door.
"Bullets don't fly through windows in Palms," she says like she's lived in LA her entire life.
I raise one eyebrow at her and stare in her eyes. She knows the truth.
"Not very often," she says with less bluster.
"Exactly. You need to take precautions. Get a second-story unit with a gated entry. Even Mar Vista would be better than The Palms."
"It's just Palms." She frowns and props her hands on her hips. Cute. "I don't want to live in Mar Vista. This is my neighborhood and if I get shot, I get shot."
Once again, she's too trusting. She gives everyone else the benefit of the doubt they don't deserve. "You want to live your life on the edge like that?"
"I don't see it that way. I'm not living on the edge. I'm living in Palms!" She leans forward and tightens her shoulders like she's really ready to fight now. "What about you?" She points a finger at me and steps closer as she talks. "You were at Arthur Morganstein's party pretending to be someone else, and you got into a huge brawl last night that ended in gunfire."
She's right. My ribs and nose are still sore. But that's normal for me. "I'm not a small-town girl trying to make it big in Hollywood."
She whispers, "You pull knives on people." Ouch. She's cutting me deep but I deserve it. "Stop judging me."
"I'm not judging you."
She counts my offenses on her fingers. "You don't like my apartment, and you made it clear you think my ghost investigation idea is stupid."
"I didn't say it was stupid."
"That's what I heard you say. You're too stupid to take care of yourself, Cass. Well, guess what? I've been on my own since I was sixteen and my bitch of a mom kicked me out. I snuck a ride on a bus to get here and slept in a piece-of-shit car for two months. I sold it to pay my first month's rent and buy my first makeup kit. This is the place I worked my fingers to the bone to earn and I'm proud of it." Her voice gets scratchy and her eyes water up.
I've hit a sore spot for her.
She takes a breath and swallows before she continues, "And the entire time I was living in my car in Long Beach, the one thing I wanted was to vis
it the Queen Mary, and I never had the money to do it. And now I do. I earned it by working long hours and doing a damn good job. Tonight's my night to stay in the most haunted room on the ship, and I'm not missing it because some stranger who kidnapped me thinks it's not safe or I can't handle anything that comes up. I can handle it. All right?"
Shit. I screwed this up.
"I'll go with you." I'm not even sure why I'm saying it. All I know is I want to fix this.
Her brow crunches and her mouth drops open.
"I'll take you to the Queen Mary to go ghost hunting." It sounds foreign coming out of my mouth, but my instincts tell me it's right. The uneasy feeling in my stomach instantly recedes as soon as I know I'm going with her.
"You said it's not your thing." She looks me over with skeptical eyes.
"It just became my thing," I answer.
"Really?" Her nose scrunches and her voice hitches.
I hold up two fingers. "Honest to God, I'm taking you to the Queen Mary tonight to stay in the most haunted room on the ship."
She bites her lip and looks down at the sidewalk. "Probably not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Well, uh…" Her foot scrapes at a weed in a crack in the sidewalk.
"Why not?"
"It's difficult to discuss." I can't see her face, but I'd bet she's blushing.
"Tell me."
"Well, um, so, one night, a few months ago, I dared a stranger in a bar to have revenge sex with me." She looks at me and yep, pink is starting to tinge the tops of her cheeks.
Oh shit.
"And he um… He was gorgeous. Sexy. Strong. I was totally into it. I thought he was too. But the truth was… he was dangerous. I made a big mistake."
She's being diplomatic about it, but she's calling me on my behavior. All I can do is nod and stare at my shoes. I deserve this. I deserve all of it for pulling a knife on her.
"So I made a vow to myself. No men. Especially you. And well, there's only one bed in Suite B340. And we'd be alone. And the kiss last night…"
