Knocked Off

by Adrienne Giordano

  He took the last two steps toward her. "Lucie?"

  She jerked up, spotted him. Her mouth flew open, releasing another piercing scream.

  Whoa. Not exactly the greeting he'd expected. And, damn, the girl could holler.

  He hauled ass, grabbed her arm, pulling her up into a hug. "Honey, what happened? Is it the Lutz thing?"

  She gripped the back of his shirt, squeezing so hard, he felt the material bunch in her fist.

  "I can't stand it anymore. I just can't."

  "What?"

  "All of it. I'm just trying to make a living. And deal with my crazy family. I got arrested and I may have brokered an illegal deal. Two illegal deals! And Joey and Ro were doing the wheelbarrow and Frankie is leaving and...and...I don't want to be anyone's bitch!" She reared back, slapped him hard—really hard—on the chest. "And you!"

  "Ow."

  What the eff? What did he do that got him that hard whack?

  She smacked him again. "I like you and...and all I keep thinking about is kissing you and the guilt sucks. Sucks!" She inhaled a huge breath. "Oh my God, my life sucks."

  Dropping her head against him, she continued to sob. He just let her wail. He hadn't survived crazy sisters without learning a few things. One of those things being that sometimes women just needed to blow off steam.

  He held on to her, patting the back of her head. "Let it out. I've got you."

  Frankie is leaving? Clearly, whatever that was, she hadn't taken it well. It hurt to see her this way—not to mention the shot to his ego—but Frank Falcone was out of the picture.

  I’m a schmuck. That's what he was because, as much as he didn't like seeing Lucie torn up like this, the idea of Frank Falcone gone made Tim a happy guy.

  But he wouldn't apologize for wanting her to himself.

  "Sshhh," he said, still patting Lucie's head as her tantrum subsided.

  Tim fought the urge to speak. Another thing he'd learned from his sisters. Speaking right now could possibly get him in trouble for some obscure reason he wouldn't fully understand. He'd play it safe and wait the whole thing out.

  Lucie finally let out a little sigh that should have hit him as exhaustion but somehow made him think of a bed and other reasons she might sigh, and his extremely male body responded. Yeah, total schmuck. But hey, he hadn't seen a ton of action lately and sighing from Lucie—a woman he definitely wanted to see action with—was causing problems.

  With her proximity, he needed to not have a physical reaction. One that she would most definitely feel jutting against her hip.

  Too late. Definitely happening.

  He stepped back, putting distance—plenty of distance—between them. "Are you okay?"

  She ran the palms of her hands over her eyes, let them rest there a second before lowering them. "I'm sorry. What a meltdown."

  "Rough few days. And you're under some pressure. All around."

  "I think it all just hit me."

  "Seems like it." He waved one hand. "Anything you want to talk about?"

  Frank Falcone leaving?

  "We probably should. I have a lot to update you on."

  * * *

  After the record-setting entry for the most humiliating moment, Lucie boosted herself to a sitting position on top of the desk and wiped the last of her tears. Too bad the plumber had bailed on her because she'd love to go into the bathroom and throw some water on her face. Wasn't that her father's cure-all for crying women? "Go on," he'd say. "Wash your face."

  If only it were that easy. Oddly enough, it always did make her feel better. Not that she'd ever admit it to him.

  Tim grabbed the folding chair Ro had left in the corner and set it in front of the desk. He leaned back, rested his hands on his thighs, most definitely his go-to position when trying to appear casual, and waited.

  Bless this man for being smart enough to not react to her complete mind melt.

  He looked up at her and his amazing lips lifted into a smile.

  "I love your lips," she said.

  Why fight it? The situation couldn't get anymore humiliating.

  "And," he added, "you stated you'd like to kiss them. Just so there's no confusion, I'd like that as well. I was giving you space. But now that I've been alerted to this situation, I'll be sure to fulfill any desire you might have. Make that desires. Plural."

  Lucie snorted. A big, long one that made him laugh. "Thank you for your willingness to please."

  "I do what I can. But first, let's talk about the challenges you're facing. The most important being your legal dilemmas. You should know I have received copies of the Contessa Gallery's invoices from the last six months. They assure me they have the original Position Seven. I didn't have a chance to look through everything, but the receipts they sent me have different fonts than the one you have. Horvath's is close, but not the same."

  "That jerk faked the receipt?"

  "Perhaps. I'm looking into it. Now, on this Lutz thing."

  Yes, the Lutz thing. The Horvaths she could almost deal with. She didn't have the long-standing friendship with them. The emotional connection. They were clients. Acquaintances. The Lutzses? With them came history, shared respect. If she'd gotten them hooked up with a swindler, she'd never forgive herself.

  "Tim, that's freaking me out. The lawyer called this morning and told me the family still has the original painting and they don't intend on selling it. Ever."

  "Lutz has a fake then."

  "Yes. And he believes it's real. He told me that. Bart paid me a commission on the sale. Can I be charged with conspiracy or something?"

  "You didn't know about it, right?"

  "Of course not."

  He lifted one hand palm up. "Then we'll fix it. By the time I get done with this guy, he'll be standing on his roof screaming you had no knowledge of his fraudulent activities. Bet on it."

  "You make it sound so easy."

  He shrugged. "I'll take care of it. Do you think Lutz would show you the provenance on the painting? I'd like to get a look at it. If he faked the Horvath's receipt, he probably did the same with Lutz's paperwork. I could ask Lutz myself, but the minute a detective starts asking questions, it’ll raise suspicion."

  "And Bart will close ranks."

  "Or run."

  What a mess that would be. If Bart did this, he needed to go to jail. "I could pretend I'm curious and see if Mr. Lutz will show me the provenance. I won't come right out and ask, but I'll frame it so he offers up the paperwork. He might not show me the actual receipt, but if it's some kind of certification. Maybe."

  "That'd work. If you feel comfortable with it."

  Ha. She didn't feel comfortable with much of anything today.

  Lucie swung her legs to let off some energy. Dog walking might be just the therapy she needed. Exercise, fresh air, doggie licks. There might be hope for this day yet. "I'll tell Joey I'll walk Otis this afternoon. Sometimes I run into Mr. or Mrs. Lutz at the house."

  "Don't be too pushy about it. Keep it casual."

  "I will."

  "So if I'm keeping track, that's two issues we've dealt with in the your-life-sucks department."

  Tim O'Brien. Great guy.

  So far.

  Lucie nudged his knee with her foot. "Those are the big ones."

  He looked straight at her, his gaze unwavering. “Then there's..."

  Lucie knew he wouldn't say it. He'd wait for her to offer it up. As if it violated some sort of man code. Whatever the reason, she'd put him out of his misery. "Frankie leaving."

  "Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck, wrinkled his nose. "You, uh, slipped that in there. What's that about?"

  "He's moving to New York. A job at ESPN."

  Tim continued to study her. No frown, no quirking eyebrows, no narrowed eyes. Nothing. Investigator body language for I-will-give-you-no-hint-of-my-thoughts.

  "I see," he said.

  "Yep."

  "And you're upset about that."

  "He asked me to go with him."
/>
  "Shit."

  Lucie smiled at that. Had to love a man who wasn't afraid to speak his mind. "I said no." The eyebrows finally went up. Ha. Surprised him on that one. "Gotcha, Detective."

  "You sure did."

  "You're surprised I said no?"

  He poked his bottom lip out. "I guess I am. After spending years with the guy, you didn't want to think about it?"

  What did that say about her? Or her relationship with Frankie? All this time they'd been doing battle, splitting up, reuniting, always coming or going, and now, finally, it appeared to be over and she didn't want to at least consider his offer?

  Simple answer. No. Later she'd decide if that made her heartless. She couldn't think about it now. She shook her head. Too many thoughts to contend with.

  "When I worked as an investment banker and wanted so badly to leave behind the mob princess moniker, I begged him—absolutely pleaded with him—to move to New York with me. I had a plan for us."

  "And?"

  "He wouldn't leave his family. I can't tell you how many arguments we've had over his family and their constant involvement and meddling. He put them before me every time."

  Well, all but one time when his father's twenty-year-old jewelry heist put Lucie in danger. At least then Frankie had taken her side. She couldn't tell Tim that. That secret, out of loyalty to Frankie, would go to her grave with her.

  "Really."

  And the way he said really let her know that he understood he'd scored big points on their first date when he'd commented about his family's interference. With him, his family's opinion didn't matter.

  The one thing Frankie could never give her.

  "Yes, Detective. You won yourself a gold star."

  He grinned. "I like gold stars."

  "I bet you do."

  "You've gotta be upset though. All that time with him and now he's leaving."

  She brought her hands up to her head, slowly ran them over her tied-back hair that had to be a mess by now. "I am upset. But he's leaving after he never would for me. That tells me something." She nudged him with her foot again. "And then you come into my life and remind me what fun is and it makes me realize what I've been missing."

  He clapped his hands then swung them wide. "Another gold star for the Irish cop. When I'm good, I'm good."

  "Yes. And if you get me out of this mess with the paintings, it'll be a hat trick."

  He brought his hands back to his thighs and tapped his fingers. "What do I get for that?"

  "You'll get something. Don't worry. But—"

  "Ach. I hate the 'but'."

  "I want to be honest with you. I like you. A lot. I just don't want you to be a rebound. It's not fair to you."

  For a second, he didn't respond. Just took that in. "You and Frankie broke up three months ago, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll take the risk. You're as level-headed as they come, Lucie. You're not gonna jump into anything without knowing what you're doing. I'm in. Whatever you want from me, it's yours."

  Lucie hopped off the desk, grabbed Tim by the cheeks, and planted one on him. Just let him have it. Obviously, he didn't mind because he clamped his hands over her backside and pulled her forward and down onto his lap until she straddled him.

  In the middle of Carlucci's! Well, Coco Barknell, but still, anyone could walk by. She didn't care. All she cared about were his lips and hers doing this way cool dance. She slid her hands over his shoulders, prayed the folding chair could hold both of them and went to work feasting on him, brushing her lips against his, loving the feel of his minty breath mingling with hers. New and fun and...different. Yes. And she liked different. Liked the way he tentatively touched his tongue to hers, testing, and when she responded, he pulled her closer.

  So. Good.

  "Sister! What the hell?"

  Lucie lurched back, her heart slamming from the sound of Ro's voice. Tim hung on, kept her from going over and crashing to the floor. Lucie whipped her head left to where Ro stood in the doorway, hands on hips and looking fierce.

  But Tim. And his amazing lips. Go with the lips. She turned back to him, ready to dive right back in.

  "Hey," Ro hollered. "You must be crazy. Two doors down from Petey's and you and the hunkmeister are going at it like horndogs. Anybody could walk by and see you. Anybody meaning your father's friends."

  From under Lucie, Tim gave a full-on, high-voltage smile and patted her rear. "I've gotta get back anyway. Would love to pick this up later, though."

  "You know it, Detective." Lucie waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe you can interrogate me?"

  "Oh, honey," Ro said. "You'll also need my help in the dirty talk department."

  Who cared? Lucie never claimed to be a grand seductress. All she wanted was fun, and Tim O'Brien, without a doubt, provided that.

  "If you're really lucky," Tim said, "I'll even handcuff you."

  Tim strolled out of the shop, offering up a quick nod to Ro, who eyeballed him up and down with that No you didn't look she performed so well.

  With the hunkmeister gone, she whirled on Lucie, who'd moved back to sitting on top of the desk, swinging her legs just for the heck of it because kissing Tim had been a nice distraction. And after the day she'd had so far, she didn't mind that.

  "Well," Ro said, "I'm glad to see you're finally getting some, but really, Luce?" She circled her arms. "Here?"

  "I don't care who sees me. I'm done caring. How's that?"

  "Bravo. The one who always makes herself sick over what other people think is going to the dark side. I'm thrilled. Let's just not make this a suicide mission. If one of those nut jobs at Petey's saw you, they'd be talking all kinds of smack. You know that'll get back to Frankie. And your dad. You want that kind of heat?"

  As her best friend, Ro knew how to get straight to the issue at hand. Lucie never minded. Ro loved her and that love meant being honest. Under any circumstances.

  Everyone should have that kind of friend. Someone who cared enough to say even the most awkward things.

  "Of course I don't want that," Lucie said. "But I'm getting tired of worrying about what everyone thinks. For once, I want to have some fun. Ro, do you know how long it's been since I've just had fun?"

  "What does that mean?"

  "Fun. As in not stressing over every decision. Over who will get offended if I do something a certain way or who will leak info to my dad. I'm just done. I can't do it anymore."

  "Ah. So the Irish cop is some kind of twisted revenge?"

  God no. "No. Not at all. Here's one for you. I like him. A lot. Being with him feels new and easy and he doesn't judge me."

  "Frankie never judged you."

  Lucie gasped. "Of course not. I'm talking about people outside the life. They judge me. It makes me wonder if part of what made Frankie and I work was that we understood each other's worlds. It made things simpler. No learning curve."

  "Nothing wrong with comfortable." The second Ro said it, she stopped. Shook her head. "Unless comfortable is a stripper-banger. I guess."

  "I'm done with comfortable. Besides, it doesn't matter anymore."

  "I know."

  "You know?"

  Ro nodded. "Frankie caught me leaving Joey's. He told me about New York."

  "Can you even believe it? After all the times I begged him to leave Franklin?"

  "I'd be irritated. But, Luce, are you sure you want to call it quits? I know you love him."

  "I do love him." As long as she could remember she’d loved him. "But I have to let him go. Someone has to end this or we'll be forty years old, still living this way, and wondering how we got to that point."

  Ro stepped forward and wrapped Lucie in a hug. "Ah, Luce. I'm sorry."

  She tipped her chin up, rested it on Ro's shoulder, expecting that any second it would hit her. That she and Frankie were over. But...nothing. All there was now was a hug from her best friend. She wouldn't cry. At least not now. She'd accept what had been coming for so long and embrace it. Follow w
hatever this new absent-Frankie path would be.

  That's what I'll do.

  She patted Ro's back. "Yeah. Me too. I'll always love him. I know that. But it's over. Time for both of us to move on."

  She backed out of Ro's arms and glanced at the door Tim had just walked through. Whether he'd be the one she'd move on with, she didn't know. All she knew was that suddenly, her body was lighter, as if her chest had opened up and she could breathe again.

  Freedom.

  15

  Walking Otis at the end of the day had become Lucie’s standard operating procedure. Ending the day with all that doggie love would never be a bad thing. After Otis's late walk, she punched in the code on the Lutz's garage and watched the door go up. Living in Lincoln Park, the Lutzses and their two neighbors had the rare perk of having an attached garage. That's what a teardown and a rebuild bought for their money in this cushy neighborhood.

  The Lutz's car was parked next to Lucie’s scooter, which Mr. L. stored for her when she wasn't in the city. The car didn't always mean someone was home. To avoid parking woes, the Lutzses often cabbed it around the city. Mr. L. had even been known to take the bus since it stopped right at the corner of his office.

  The one Lucie used to work with him in. The place where he'd befriended her and helped her transition out of her corporate job and into picking up doggie accessory clients to make ends meet. Making ends meet turned into Coco Barknell. All because the Lutzses introduced her to a few people after she'd made Otis a fancy dog collar.

  Lucie would always be thankful for their support. Always. Getting them hooked up with a swindler wasn't exactly a great way to repay their generosity. Please let them forgive me.

  Otis, needing to be the man in charge, led her to the inside door. As Coco Barknell grew, she'd had less and less time for dog walking and missed Otis the most. A big lug of an Olde English Bulldogge, he was seventy-five pounds of unconditional love.

  "Relax, Otis, you'll get there. If you're lucky, I'll give you a bully stick."

  She eased the door open and Otis squeezed through, his nub of a tail whipping—if nubs whipped—back and forth. She dropped the leash and he dashed right to his water bowl on the far side of the mudroom.