by Vanessa Vale
“You look…incredible,” I whispered when I kissed her forehead.
She grinned at me, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Sit. Mr. Casale’s brought us wine.”
I held out Emory’s chair for her, then shook Paul’s hand. “I see you took care of my girl.” Glancing at Emory, I saw her blush. I loved that I could do that to her.
“If that means being dragged to the mall for dress shopping, then yes, I took care of your girl,” Paul replied.
“Are you okay with wine or do you want water?” She remembered I’d said I didn’t drink anymore.
“Water.”
She put the bottle down, then pushed her water glass toward me. “I only had the clothes I put in my bag last night. I couldn’t go to the hottest restaurant in town wearing shorts and a T-shirt.”
She could’ve and I wouldn’t have minded. While she looked stunning, I liked her best when she was naked. I knew enough about women to know now was not the time to tell her that. I would later, when she was naked.
“I’m a lawyer. I know I have a painful, boring job, but I’d rather go through a two-day deposition than to go through that experience again. Have you ever been in the lingerie department before?”
I didn’t know if I should commiserate with Paul over that scary task or get turned on by the idea of Emory picking out something super sexy. I turned and eyed her, wishing I had x-ray vision and could see what she had on beneath the dress, but she smiled sweetly at me, giving nothing away.
I reached for my water and took a big gulp. As Christy and Paul were commenting about something on the menu, Emory leaned in and said, her voice low enough so only I could hear, “It’s pink.”
I turned my head so our mouths were inches apart. “It’s pink?”
“And lacy.”
My mouth fell open when I realized what she was talking about. She grinned wickedly and picked up her own menu. Turnabout was fair play, so I put my hands in my lap, then moved my right so it rested on her thigh, my thumb slowly inching the hem of her dress upward.
Emory stiffened, but didn’t stop me. Well, she stopped me with her hand firmly on top of mine when I was getting close to feeling whether her panties were lacy or not. I never really intended to do anything in the middle of Casale’s restaurant, but I wanted to see how far she’d let me. And hell, now that my fingers were caressing the tender skin of her inner thigh, I wasn’t planning on moving it. I would eat left handed. I just had to pick something from the menu that didn’t involve using a knife.
EMORY
Mr. Casale, instead of the waiter, came to the table. “It would be my pleasure to select your meal for you.” I was thrilled with this because I couldn’t concentrate with Gray’s hand on my thigh. It settled just shy of my panties, his thumb moving slowly back and forth, as if telling me he wasn’t going any farther and that he liked this spot just fine.
I liked the spot just fine too, but it had gotten awfully hot in the restaurant and my panties were noticeably wetter than when I first arrived. Gray did nothing untoward or inappropriate the entire meal, but I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t move his hand. In fact, he ate left handed. The idea that he didn’t want to let go of my leg had me feeling…giddy. It was a real first date—a restaurant, a dress—although we did have chaperones. If they knew about the inappropriate hand placement under the table, they didn’t let on.
It was only when, after our plates were cleared and Mr. Casale pulled up a chair and sat down at the end of the table, did Gray move his hand. It seemed neither of us wanted the distraction for whatever the man had to say.
“I have heard on the street that someone is mad at you for not giving him drugs.”
He didn’t waste time by mincing words. Mr. Casale was looking at me. Everyone else looked to me as well. Drugs? Me? “What are you talking about?”
“You work at the free clinic?”
“On Saturday mornings, yes.”
“You can prescribe pain killers?”
“Yes.”
Gray took my hand in his, gave it a squeeze.
“You’ve cut off someone’s supply and they aren’t happy.”
My mouth fell open as I processed his words. “I give out prescriptions for pain pills all the time. It could be any number of people.”
Mr. Casale tapped his chin thoughtfully. “This person, I have learned, harms women so they are seen at the clinic and receives the pain medication. Then keeps it for himself.”
“What does this have to do with Emory?” Gray asked.
“Rumor is they want her keys to get into the free clinic to get more.”
I glanced at Paul and Christy, who were listening carefully, confusion and surprise on their faces.
“I can’t just get into the medication. We have one of those big machines that requires a password. It’s a big pill vault and has a computer connected to it. There’s no key.”
“There’s one in each department at the hospital as well. It’s strictly monitored and doesn't have all medications,” Christy added.
“Then they just want the prescriptions, most likely the women get it filled and he takes it from them. Either way, you’ve cut off his supply, or one of them. Did you deny drugs to anyone recently?” he asked.
I thought back over the past month or so at the clinic, then remembered the woman from last weekend. Broken rib. I’d given her a script for pain pills twice before, but that was more than enough for her recuperation time. Had this man broken her rib just so he could get the pain meds for himself? What was her name? Alice something.
“There was a woman last weekend. Broken rib and wanted more pain meds, but I can’t tell you her name. Confidentiality laws.”
Mr. Casale held up his hands. “I do not need the name, just the confirmation that this is probable, and I will not bore you with the details about how I will resolve this.”
It could involve breaking laws and a bullet to the back of a head, therefore I really didn’t want to know.
“We only have a small amount of medicine at the clinic. We give out paper scripts, or send them by computer directly to the pharmacy. Either way, why break into my house? I have nothing for him there.”
Mr. Casale shrugged. “I didn’t say this person was smart, just mad.”
“Have you told this to the police?” Paul asked.
“Some dumb guy hooked on pain meds broke into my house and wanted to hurt me!” I kept my voice down, but couldn’t keep the anger from it. It was my turn to grip Gray's hand. “I climbed down a Boy Scout ladder in my pajamas all because of pain med prescriptions?”
“I know we have just met so you probably do not know the extent of my involvement in the community,” Mr. Casale continued.
“You founded the clinic,” Christy said. All eyes turned to her in surprise. I didn’t know that little gem of information and I worked at the place. “I’m Director of Community Relations at the hospital. I know all about this stuff.”
I used to work in administration, but on a nursing level, not the same pay scale as Christy. It was news to me.
“This is not your problem. It is mine,” Mr. Casale said.
“With all due respect, sir,” Gray began, but Mr. Casale held up his hand to stop him.
“Your problem is keeping Emory happy. This,” he waved his hand, “this man, he messed with my clinic and he has messed with a volunteer there. She is also my friend and under my protection. He is my problem.”
Paul had said Mr. Casale was a connected man. By the look on his face now, the tone of his voice, I believed him. He might have been older, he might have a grandson, but he was not someone I wanted to mess with.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“This…problem will be resolved tonight.” His words were sharp and edgy. Lethal. “Stay with your man.” Mr. Casale indicated Gray with the tilt of his chin and I flushed. “Have him take you to your rowing in the morning, then spend the day together. Forget about this. I will call you when it is over.”
Mr. Casale was earnest in his words, where, if spoken by anyone else I would have laughed. Gray lived in a darker world than me, knew how to fight, knew men who liked to fight. He wasn’t laughing either, but instead leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and narrowed his eyes.
“No way. I’m going with you.” When Mr. Casale was about to speak, Gray pushed on. “Sir, you didn’t see the flimsy ladder she tossed out her window to escape. You didn’t hear her on the phone when she was hiding from the guy. You didn’t have to drive across town to get to her. I’d never felt more helpless in my life knowing someone was after her and I couldn't protect her.” With every word his jaw clenched tight, his body tensed, his voice turned dark.
I melted a little inside at the thought of what Gray had gone through when I’d called him. I couldn’t imagine a similar phone call and not want to seek retribution.
“I want to know this man’s off the streets.” Gray sat back, put his arm around the back of my chair and I felt his thumb stroke over my back. Even with all his obvious hostility, the touch was gentle.
I turned in my chair to face him. “I don’t want you hurt.”
He swiveled his head toward me. “I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt.”
A frisson of fear shot through me. This was the fighter part of Gray I hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m going with you.”
Both men chimed in at once. Even Paul shook his head.
“Absolutely not—” Mr. Casale began, but Gray cut him off as he kept his eyes focused on me.
“I can’t do this and worry about you.” Those dark, dark eyes bored into me. The intensity there was for seeing justice done, for protecting what belonged to him. I belonged to him. “Go with Paul and Christy. They’ll take you to my apartment and you can wait for me there.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his words made sense. If I went with them to God knows where, most likely the darkest and most dangerous corners of the city, Gray could get hurt if I distracted him.
I took a breath, knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind. “You…you promise you’ll come back to me?” I knew the worry came through in my voice. I’d just found Gray and didn’t need him hurt, or worse.
He cupped my cheek, leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Promise.”
Mr. Casale stood, and after Gray held my gaze for another moment, stood as well. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a white keypass. “This works on the outer door of my building and on the elevator to get up to my apartment.” I took it from him, our fingers brushing.
“Everything will be fine by morning, but I will continue to watch over you since Marco is in love with you.” Mr. Casale looked to Gray, who nodded, and they left. I felt my heart going with them. I ached to get up and follow, to grab Gray’s hand and hold him back, to tell him not to go off with some connected man hell bent on vigilante justice. In this case, Gray was of the same mind and if he was the man I…I loved, then I had to let him go.
Christy and Paul were watching me and I felt a flush creep up into my cheeks. I took a sip of my wine as Christy leaned in and asked, “Who’s Marco? Should he be worried Gray will beat him up?”
GRAY
It was after one when Frank dropped me off at the restaurant to get my car, then drove home. I glanced up at the windows to my apartment, but all was dark. Surely Emory was asleep. I envisioned her in my bed, her dark hair fanned out across my pillow, ensuring the coconut scent lingered long after she awoke. I realized after sharing the bed with her for only one night I didn’t know how she slept. Was she a stomach sleeper? Side? She’d been curled up against me all night, but that wasn’t the norm, for she hadn’t been with a man since her ex. It was this lack of knowledge that had me climbing from the car and clicking the lock button. I was eager to get upstairs and find out. It made my night’s activities worth it. I curled my fingers into fists at the thought, stabbing the up button with my knuckles.
Casale’d had information about the man who was using women to get his drugs through the clinic—and other clinics around town—but he wasn’t at the place we’d gone. It had been a rundown row house on the other side of town, an area I’d never been and well away from Casale’s turf.
I spent fifteen minutes in the back of Casale’s SUV as he talked on his cell, working his connections, whoever they were, to find the guy. He’d brought Frank and a couple other men were in a second car. Casale had only offered first names as way of introduction. As for me, they all knew who I was and shook my hand with a certain level of what seemed to be respect. Obviously, they knew I could hold my own in a fight, but I was content letting them keep the guns. My gun shooting days from the Army were over.
I remained quiet as Casale talked, listening and watching. I’d dealt with some bad people, some bad shit, but this was outside of my comfort zone. I wanted my hands on the fucker, but finding him was up to Casale.
The second place we went turned out to be a few blocks from the clinic—Emory wouldn’t be driving to the place on her own anymore—and the guy was easy to catch. I’d wanted a chase, a fight, something, but he was just a dead-beat low life who pissed his pants at the sight of Casale and his men.
Casale gave the signal and he and his men left the room, giving me a minute alone with the asshole without being asked. While punching him in the face had felt good, he was a worthless piece of shit. He cried, actually cried when confronted with breaking into Emory’s house.
“Dude, she wouldn’t give over the scripts,” he said, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his face.
“So you break into her house. What were you planning to do?”
He held up his hands as if to ward me off. His eyes were wide and wild and I recognized a guy hyped on drugs, on meth, and he was flying now. “Just scare her, that’s all, man.”
Just scare her. Right. If he was high in Emory’s house like he was now, he wouldn’t have stopped at finding her keys or a script pad and leaving. He’d gone up the stairs looking for Emory.
“Do you know who I am?” For once, I wanted someone to recognize me.
He nodded.
“Who am I?” I asked.
“The…The Green Machine.” Good, he knew who he was facing now.
“Yeah, and Emory’s my woman.” When he started to back away from me, not just in fear, but absolute terror, I continued. “I’d say I’m a more matched fight than a woman, don’t you?”
I cracked my knuckles and I saw him swallow.
“You wanted to just scare her? Well, dude, I don’t plan on just scaring you.” I stepped toward him and sought the retribution I wanted.
Five minutes later, I met Casale on the steps and Frank tossed me a rag while Casale’s men went in to retrieve the guy. I wiped the blood from my knuckles as the fucker was dragged out of the hovel he called home and tossed into the backseat of the second Casale SUV. One of the men held up his hands and I tossed the rag to him. He walked over and leaned against the car, face impassive.
The air was heavy and I was sweating from my exertions, but the night was still. Only the far-off hum of the highway and a distant siren broke the quiet. I shook Casale’s hand. “I’m done here.”
“Yes. Frank will take you back to your car.” Beating the shit out of someone was one thing. What Casale intended to do with the guy was out of my league and I wanted nothing to do with it. Neither did Casale. As he walked over to the SUV, his man moved to open the door for him. They both climbed in then drove away, leaving me alone with Frank.
“I thought my dad was fucked up,” I told him, “but yours is scary as shit.”
EMORY
I had no idea how late Gray would be, but I forced myself to stay awake and decided watching TV would work, but it had taken a half an hour to figure out how to use his remote and work the complex, very male electronic system. By the time I heard the elevator doors whoosh open, I had practically lost my mind from really bad cable. I hopped up and saw him over the back of the couch
. He looked…perfect.
“Gray,” I almost sobbed, relief washing over me with a strong pulse of adrenaline. He didn’t seem hurt at all, no cuts or bruises, but there was a stain, something that looked like blood, on his shirt. I wasn’t going to ask what had happened because right now, I didn’t care. He was fine and he was here.
His hardened gaze softened and he held out his arms. I ran around the couch and launched myself at him, our mouths meeting. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my dress riding up my thighs. His hands cupped my bottom as he turned and walked down the hall to his room. He put one knee on the bed and lowered me down onto my back, never breaking the kiss.
This was desperate and frantic, the need almost feral. My hands worked at the buttons on Gray’s shirt as we rolled so that Gray could slide the zipper of my dress down my back. He worked the dress down and off me, tossing it onto the floor, his motions just as eager as mine. But then he paused and my hands stopped working on his shirt. He was looking down at me, his breath ragged.
“What?” I asked.
He brushed a hand over the curve of my breast. “Pink and lacy.” His voice was dark and guttural.
Pushing off the bed, he stood and looked down at me, his eyes heated, his lips slick. “I love you.”
I sucked in a breath at his words. It was not what I expected to hear, but exactly what I wanted. I came up and onto my knees before him. “Gray, I…this is insane.” I brushed my hair back from my face. “I love you, too.”
His eyes flared and he took a step back. “Why?”
I frowned. “Why do I love you? Why do you love me?”
He shook his head in dismay. “The first time I saw you, it was like I’d been sucker punched. You smiled at that bartender making you the fake gin and tonic and I was jealous. I wanted you to smile like that at me. And when you did, that first time, I fell in love right then and there.”
