She's a Spitfire (Tough Love Book 2)

by Chloe Liese

  And with that depth of love and relationship came intense vulnerability. At that moment, I felt like a straightjacket of worry was binding me, choking me of air. She was off being independent and partying it up, with her wild-child friend, all gorgeous and drunk. And with just one burly guy I’d hired to keep her safe. One guy wasn’t enough.

  “That’s it, I’m going.” I stalked to my room. Threw off my sweats and Sox tee. Stepped into jeans and tossed on a dress shirt. I was halfway through with the buttons when my phone rang, and I launched across the room to grab it.

  I sighed in relief when I saw it was just Lucas. “Baby, I know you miss me, but we just saw each other this morning. I need a little space.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re adorable. Listen, I’ve got news you won’t like.”

  My heart thundered against my ribs. “What?”

  “Mac’s here with that sensational friend of hers—”

  “I know, Lucas, she told me. You were there. The ladies are out painting the town. Tom’s with them, right? They’re not alone?”

  He sighed. “That’s exactly it, mate. They’re not alone at all. Some dishy bloke’s sitting there, wining and dining them.”

  Red. Crimson red colored my vision. “Where the fuck’s their security?” I growled.

  “How would I know? I don’t know the fellow. Should I look for him?”

  I ran a hand through my hair and tugged violently. “No, just tell me where you are.”

  “Harmonia—that posh piano bar. Kai’s got a thing for the woman who plays and—”

  “Lucas, that’s irrelevant. Focus. Where the hell is Harmonia?”

  “We drove right by your flat actually on route. It’s in Fitzrovia. On Mortimer.”

  That was half a mile away. “I’ll be there in five.”

  Wallet, phone, keys shoved in pockets. Down the elevator. A three-minute sprint due east, and I came right up to the bouncer. Lucas must have told him I was coming, because I was waved through. I scanned the place, finally caught a fiery mane of hair, one bobbing head of curls, and…

  Gianno?

  “Jesus.” I sighed in relief, then immediately ducked into the foyer, out of view. Nairne hadn’t seen me, and I didn’t want to piss her off, making her think I couldn’t relax enough to let her be while she was out having fun. Even though I’d been warring with exactly that before Lucas called.

  Tom came up behind me, looking distraught. “Everything all right, sir?”

  “Tom, please. Just Zed.”

  His jaw ticked. “Mr. Salvatore, I can assure you, I was very careful about letting him join them. You had him on her cleared persons list, and Ms. MacGregor told me to expect him. I tried to text you just so you’d know, too, but my reception is shit here.”

  I clapped his shoulder. “No worries. It’s fine. I just had a misunderstanding with a friend, which I’m going to sort out.”

  Tom and I parted ways and I found Lucas easily. He was in the swanky lounge with some lady sitting on the arm of his chair trying really hard to get his attention. And failing miserably. He was staring at the wall and holding a gin and tonic.

  I toed his foot until it knocked his knees uncrossed. “It’s her dad, you idiot.”

  Lucas’ eyes met mine and widened. “Shit, Zed, I’m sorry.” He sat up and shooed the woman away. “Go on, dove. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood. Go on, find someone younger.” She sulked away and I sat in her place on the arm of his leather tufted chair.

  “So, thanks for the dead-sprint. I only practiced for two hours, ran ten miles, then lifted for an hour. I needed a good evening high-intensity work out.”

  He laughed dryly and looked me over. “I am sorry. He seems awfully young to be her father.”

  I shrugged. “He looks good for his age. But he’s never been married or raised kids. Dad says that’s how your fifties look when family hasn’t sucked it out of you.”

  Lucas laughed again and drank deeply from his gin and tonic. “I’d imagine so.”

  A waiter came by and took my order for a beer.

  “You look sad as shit, Lucas. What gives?”

  He spun his tumbler on the arm of his chair and stared off. “Being back is…trickier than I thought. A lot’s changed in nearly four years.” He tipped his drink and finished it. “But not enough.”

  “What’s that mean?” I took my beer from the waiter and nodded in thanks.

  “It means I’m still a paycheck and a status symbol for any bird who comes my way. I’m weary of it.”

  “Ah.” I took a pull from my beer and set it on my knee.

  His brother Kai was nearby, making eyes at the pianist, who was returning the favor. Although Kai was handsome, too— looked a good bit like Lucas—nobody was hounding him. But at least four other women were staring at Lucas like he was a piece of meat. It was who Lucas was that made him so alluring.

  I knew all about it. One of the many things I loved about Nairne when we met was she didn’t give a shit about my paycheck or my ability on the field. She hated publicity and thumbed her nose at social status. Nairne liked me for me. Shockingly.

  Lucas sighed and rubbed his forehead, as his gin and tonic was replaced with another by our waiter.

  “Hey.” I shoved his shoulder.

  He glanced up at me. “Hm?”

  “You’ll find her. Or she’ll find you. There are lots of women out there who aren’t empty-brained gold-diggers. Give it some time.”

  “Zed!” said a French-accented voice.

  I turned to peer over my shoulder.

  Elodie stood next to Nairne, who was laughing while popping wheelies. Her tongue was stuck out in concentration and her cheeks were rosy with the flush of a few whiskeys. I launched up and walked over to them.

  “Hey.” I shoved her push rims down and pressed my lips along the shell of her ear. “No wheelies when you’re drunk.”

  She opened her mouth, probably to tell me to piss off, but I took her mouth before she could. Soft and warm. Kissing her was like the first deep breath after surfacing from underwater.

  She smiled when I pulled away, then glanced up at me suspiciously. “Highhanded nonsense. Why are you here?”

  “Long story.” I scrubbed my hair. “Lucas wasn’t sure you guys were all right, because he didn’t recognize Gianno.”

  Nairne laughed. “Ah yes, Lucas and I did make eye contact before he dropped into the VIP lounge. As for Gianno, I promise he was completely chivalrous. He’s paying the tab now actually.”

  “Lucas?” Elodie squinted past my shoulder to spot the man in question. “Is that the tall fellow from the hospital who made me feel like une petite fleur?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered slowly. “How about we get you two home, and we can figure out the details tomorrow.”

  “Everything all right?” Lucas stepped up behind me and peered down at Elodie.

  Elodie swallowed loudly as she stared at him and started to sway. “Oh, dear.”

  “Steady.” Lucas caught her.

  Nairne frowned between them and folded her arms. “She’s fine. Now, come on, El.” Nairne pulled Elodie onto her lap, and somehow, with her badass upper body strength, wheeled them around toward the door. “Goodnight, lads. Tom will text you when I’m back, Zed. Love you.”

  I felt mad she was leaving, mad she didn’t kiss me goodbye—yes, okay? I liked being kissed goodbye—and mad she wasn’t going to be texting or calling me later. But then she said those two little words that never failed to scare the shit out of me and send me soaring at the same time.

  So, instead I lifted a hand in goodbye and swallowed my crappy attitude. Nairne had a friend who’d been there for her, and who loved her. I could let her have one drunken, debaucherous night without meddling, couldn’t I? I just might need some alcoholic help.

  I turned toward Lucas. “Okay, let’s get shitfaced.”

  Lucas was still staring in the direction of Nairne and Elodie, scrubbing his mouth. “Exactly what I was going to say.” He
clapped a hand on my back. “Though here on this side of the pond, we say pissed or trollied, all right, Zed? Time to get you thoroughly indoctrinated.”

  His hands smacked together as he leaned on the bar. “Two shots of tequila, for the gentleman and myself.”

  “Oh no.” I waved my hands. “Tequila and I don’t get along.”

  Lucas laughed. “Yes you do, Zeddy. You become a very liberated dancer, and usually misplace your pants. And I mean that in the British sense.”

  The shots appeared before us and I glared at the bartender, who blushed and avoided my eyes, then blinked flirtatiously up at Lucas.

  “You have undue influence,” I said. “Now the shots are on the bar, and if I say no, I’m wasting it.”

  Lucas picked his up and handed me mine. “You’re very scrupulous, Zed. Waste is abhorrent. You should drink it.”

  “My values have gotten me into some pretty terrible circumstances recently.” I sighed, clinked it with him and threw it back. Shuddered, then groaned as another shot appeared on the bar. “I don’t think this is going to turn out any different.”

  Eighteen

  Zed

  Whatever bird that was outside, I wanted to murder it. I’d left my gun in Boston though, and with the exception of wanting to pick off the squawking menace outside the window, I hadn’t missed the thing. I’d hated having a firearm on me whenever I’d needed to. Hated that I’d had to aim, Dad behind me with arms crossed, at a target’s head and heart.

  It did something to a person, systematically practicing, visualizing, eliminating another human being. And I could be an asshole—demanding, particular, always ready for a good fist fight—but I wasn’t a killer. Until I’d had to be. And I still hadn’t told Nairne.

  Who, speaking of, was underneath me, her fingers sliding through my hair. I cracked my eyelids open, knowing sunlight was going to feel like ice picks puncturing my eye balls.

  I groaned and burrowed into her stomach.

  Nairne laughed quietly, but never broke her fingers’ rhythm through my hair. Which felt really good against the thudding headache building in the back of my head. Goddamn tequila.

  “You and Lucas upstaged Elodie and me, I think,” she whispered.

  I stared at her. Wide green eyes like emeralds. Auburn hair that turned sable brown in shadow and a fiery red as the sun touched it. She had her glasses on and I had a death grip around her waist like I’d made a pillow of her torso and passed out. Elodie slept faced away from us, and it looked like I’d pulled Nairne as close to the wall as possible, away from her.

  “We got pretty trashed, but it was worth it. He and I haven’t blown off steam like that in…”

  “Ever?” Nairne offered. Her scalp massage didn’t stop. “I can imagine. You had to be responsible and careful back in Boston. I’d assume the occasion when letting loose was either plausible or safe was rare.”

  I groaned in agreement.

  My throat had gunk, my head felt like a jackhammer was rattling inside it, and I needed a shower. Why not spill my saddest, darkest secret when I had a raging hangover and nothing in my stomach? I felt like shit anyway. It felt apropos. I turned my face and kissed her wrist as her hand made another pass through my hair. “I need to talk to you. Shower with me?”

  Nairne’s hands paused. “Talk? Everything all right?”

  “Yeah.” If I were honest, I would have said hell no.

  “All right.”

  I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. She asked me to set her on the toilet and I held my breath, waiting for her to kick me out like she always did. But she didn’t. I turned on the water and peeled off my clothes. Checked the water and felt it was still frigid. European plumbing didn’t offer hot water fast.

  “Bollocks,” she muttered.

  I turned over my shoulder and saw her leaned over. I knew Nairne preferred to self-catheterize at least three times a day to avoid the possibility of an accident or infection. She had scant sensation with her bladder and found pissing herself mortifying. Morning, lunch, bedtime, and then she’d go on her own in between if she’d drank more than normal.

  She turned and threw a thin plastic tube in the wastebasket next to the sink, reached behind her and ripped open another. When she did, I saw her hands were shaking.

  “Nairne?”

  She hunched over again, focusing on her task, but I heard her sniffling. Then she turned again after a minute and threw it at the trash. Covered her face, sat back against the commode’s tank, and I knew she was crying.

  I was on my knees, hands sliding up her thighs before I took her face and pulled it to look at me. “Fragolina, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  She started crying harder, and I wrapped my arms around her. “Shh, Nairne,” I whispered into her hair. I rocked her softly back and forth in my arms, careful not to tip her off the toilet. “Tell me.”

  “I think I’m shaky from drinking. I can’t…” She palmed away tears.

  I filled in the blanks of what she wasn’t saying. Stood up to wash my hands at the sink. “Why don’t you try one more time and…maybe I can help steady your hand, so you can get it inserted. I have a better angle than you.”

  She sighed. “All right.” I watched her rip open the package, noted how she picked it up at the far end, tipped it up and used two fingers to hold back her labia.

  I knelt down, felt my brows knit in concentration as I took her hand in mine and steadied her, helping guide the medical grade plastic tube right inside. As soon as it was in, she sighed in relief as I kept inserting it until she whispered that was far enough. I pointed the funnel end down into the toilet bowl, then gently released her hand.

  She smiled at me, a small rallying smile. I stood, and when I did, she tilted her head up.

  “Is it weird that I want to kiss you right now?” she said. She laughed nervously and shook her head.

  God I really wanted to. Because her letting me help, now knowing this corner of her reality, made me feel insanely closer to her. I grieved for her that she had to negotiate all these additional nuisances to avoid complications with her spinal injury, but I was grateful that one of those tasks wasn’t a barrier between us anymore. I kissed her, held her jaw, and tasted her. Fuck, I loved her.

  When I pulled away, I happened to glance down, and saw urine dark and tinged with blood. I felt my heart pounding in concern. “Nairne—”

  She peered down. Groaned. “Well, that explains it.”

  “What?”

  “This is what it looks like with a UTI. Which would account for feeling off and having the shakes.”

  “You have a doctor you can call?” I leaned to test the shower water and it was plenty hot.

  “Yes.” She laughed dryly. “On speed dial. I’ll ring her after the shower.” She removed the catheter and I watched her technique, filed it away for future knowledge. Then she tossed it in the trash and spun toward the sink to wash her hands. Flicked the water off her beautiful hands then peered up at me. “Help me in?”

  I did. I held her like a bride and kissed her, as she slid her damp fingers through my hair and smiled against my mouth. Carefully, I set her on her shower chair. Stepped under the spray and sighed at the heat massaging my tense muscles and the bliss of seeing Nairne naked and glistening with water droplets. She ran her hands through her hair to get it wet, arching her back as she did. Water-darkened hair plastered against her high, full breasts. The soft swell of her hips, and those long legs. She had no clue how beautiful she always was to me.

  Nairne eyed me critically as she squeezed water out of her hair and found the shampoo. “Thought you wanted to talk. Looks like”—she cleared her throat and looked straight at my hard cock—“you’re in the mood for something else.” I took the shampoo bottle from her hands and stepped behind her.

  “Ignore that. It’s what happens when you’re naked and I see you. Always will.” I clicked open the bottle and squirted a generous glop of herby shampoo that smelled like her. Snapped the lid
shut and set it down. “I do want to talk.”

  As I worked the shampoo into her hair, I tried to think about how to reveal the last standing part of my fucked up past that Nairne didn’t know about. When we’d begun our relationship, I’d told myself she only needed the parts of me that were relevant to our present, not the moments of my past that could sully the precious corner of time I’d expected to share with her.

  Then, of course, slowly, as I fell for her, I’d let her in, told her my story, page by page, until Nairne knew my childhood foibles and family anecdotes. My screwed up dynamic with Nella, and some of my worst moments in Cosa Nostra. Except for this one chapter that I’d kept hidden, because Teo was right—I’d been scared.

  But if we were going to make a future together, interweave our narratives as I hoped, she had to know the whole story preceding us. She deserved that. And I needed to find my balls and fucking own up to it. There wasn’t a good or pleasant way to put it. It was sad and dark, and she was either going to hate me for it, or not. No amount of rhetorical gymnastics was going to save me.

  Nairne groaned quietly as I scrubbed her scalp. I reached for the detachable shower head and used it to rinse next. As I watched lines of lather roll down her hair like waves crashing on the shore, I took a deep breath and told myself to get it over with already.

  “What did Nella say to you that day?” I asked.

  Nairne glanced up at me. “Told me I had to leave without a word. Threatened to hurt you if I didn’t. That’s all, Zed.”

  So Nella hadn’t spilled my secret. I’d figured as much since it seemed Nairne would have brought it up by now. I took comfort that Nairne would hear the truth from me.

  “There’s something I was worried she’d said. And I’m glad she didn’t, so I can, but…” I sighed. “It’s not an easy story, and I’m not…”

  “Zed, it’s all right. Just tell me.”

  I exhaled slowly. “Right. My mom was in a lot of pain at the end. The cancer had spread to her lungs, which made breathing hard. She’d have these episodes, gasping for air and hacking. Said she felt like she was drowning.”