“Better question, what didn’t he do? Hacks. Creative accounting. Creative banking. Wire taps. Camera feeds. Drops. Pickups. Messenger. It’s lucky this guy works from home and I’ll lay cake down on the fact he got zero real work done in the last six months, he’s been so visible doing shit for Lescheva.”
“Lescheva?”
“Grigori Lescheva, top guy in the Russian mob and distant relative of your boy Elliott.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my eyes slid to the side and I murmured, “All so Lanie could have peonies in August.”
Tack’s fingers still in my hair tensed against my scalp and my eyes slid back to him. “No. That woman in there with her mountain of Kleenex would be happy without peonies in August, Red. This is about him growin’ a pair, mannin’ up and tellin’ her he can’t hand her the world. She didn’t want the world. She wanted him. He didn’t have enough confidence in himself to believe that a woman like her would want a man like him and in the end, he took away the only thing she really ever wanted.”
Um… wow. I liked that Tack knew that and I also liked how he said it.
I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I whispered, “This is true.”
“I know it’s true,” he whispered back.
“If he’s broke, how was he going to pay you half a million dollars to whack this Lescheva guy?” I asked.
“Provin’ irrefutably he’s a moron, he was gonna use his skills to steal it from the mob.”
Yes, that proved irrefutably that Elliott was a moron. Big time.
I turned my head, pressed my cheek against my hand on his chest and sighed.
Tack’s fingers tensed against my scalp again and he ordered, “Come here, baby, I want a kiss then I gotta get some shuteye. I’m f**kin’ wiped.”
I blinked at my room.
Now was the time to tell him he wasn’t sleeping in my bed and he needed to go to another one. The problem was, he was na**d in my bed and I was resting on his chest.
Oh boy. How did I let that happen?
I decided to blame Elliott and Tack’s tats.
Then I pulled in breath, lifted my head and looked at Tack.
“Uh… maybe you should sleep elsewhere tonight?” I suggested what I hoped sounded more like a requirement.
He grinned, his fingers slid to the back of my head and he started pulling me to him, saying, “Quit f**kin’ around, Red, I’m tired.”
“I wasn’t, erm… fucking around.”
His hand stopped putting pressure on my head and his brows knit.
“Say again?”
“I think you should, um… probably, uh…” Damn! “With Lanie here, you know… you should…”
His hand left my hair, both hands went under my armpits and he hauled me up his chest then rolled into me so he was on top. Then he gave me the goodnight kiss to beat all goodnight kisses. It was long, hard, deep, wet and utterly delicious.
When he was done, I was breathing heavily, my lips were tingling, my ni**les were tingling and there were other places that had started to tingle but he’d stopped. Then he rolled to his back, reached an arm out to turn off the light on my nightstand, the room was plunged into darkness and he tucked me into his side.
My cheek was to his shoulder, my hand on his abs and I was trying to control my breath.
Once I got my breath under control, I said quietly into the darkness, “I guess this means you aren’t going to go home.”
His arm around my waist got tight before it relaxed and he replied with humor in his tone, “Yeah, Red, that’s what it means.”
I wondered what he would have done if I hadn’t slithered out of his room when he’d kicked me out of his bed and instead just stayed. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him but I couldn’t call up the courage.