I bit his tongue.
“What the f**k!” he hissed, hand swiping at his mouth and glaring at me.
He was hot – all macho, Italian bad boy, dark, wavy hair, dark eyes, slim hips, broad shoulders.
When we’d first seen him, Sissy and I had both fallen in lust. Sissy had been over the moon when he asked her out. Sissy had never been heavy, she had blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair and was pretty, petite and dainty, like a gown up, human-sized fairy, without the pointy ears.
“Get away from me,” I snapped at Dom.
His face changed from angry, to calculating. “You want it, Ava, you know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Like I said, he was hot, so he probably wasn’t wrong. But he was also my best friend’s husband.
“Get over yourself,” I told him.
“I’d rather get on top of you.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. That was a really bad line. Dom, I knew, because I’d seen it, could do a lot better.
Instead, I said, “Fuck off, Dom. Sissy’s in the other room!”
“I get what I want,” he said and something about the way he said it kind of freaked me out. He said it like he meant it and he was looking at me in a way that made my scalp tingle and not in a good way. I didn’t know what he did for a living but I didn’t think it was good and Sissy never talked about it which was concerning, Sissy and I talked about everything. He struck me as a bad guy, not only because he was a cheat and a jerk but also for other reasons.
“Dom, f**k… off,” I snapped, but he kissed me again, arms going around me, tongue sliding in my mouth. I struggled, pushed and Dom pinned me against the wall, his hand going up my shirt.
Then we both heard a noise, Dom let me go and stepped back and we saw Sissy standing in the door.
“Sis, girl…” Dom said, his voice conciliatory and I wanted to kick him. I mean, what did he expect to happen?
I didn’t kick him though mainly because I was horrified and scared through to my f**king soul that I might have just lost my best friend.
But Sissy looked at me and said, “Ava, would you help me pack?”
Then she walked out of the room.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
I shoved Dom’s shoulder as I walked by him and glared but he just repeated, staring at me with an intensity that I did… not… like, “Ava, I get what I want.”
I rolled my eyes, left the room, helped Sissy pack and she moved in with me for a few days. She cried a lot and I listened a lot and I quietly seethed a lot more. Then she went to her Mom’s place in Wyoming. But not until after we’d hatched our plan.
Sissy was going to move away and I was going to get the goods on Dom so Sissy could divorce him and take him to the cleaners.
That was the plan.
I wasn’t sure how to get the goods on Dom, that was where tough guy, mercenary, bounty hunter, private eye Luke Stark was supposed to come into the scenario.
* * * * *
Sissy knew Luke, had met him several times and had stood beside me at my bedroom window checking him out on numerous occasions while he lifted weights in his Dad’s garage.
She also knew how I felt about him (read: big, huge, twenty-one-year old crush).
Dragging Luke into the deal was her idea.
Sissy also knew about the funeral, what happened there, in fact, she knew everything about Luke.
She knew, when I was nine and was walking home from school, that three boys I detested had caught up with me, calling me Fatty, Fatty, Four Eyes (not original but it hurt anyway). She knew how Luke, thirteen and already a tough customer, came out of nowhere and punched one of them in the nose, bloodying it and making all three run away. She also knew after that was over that I made some smart comment making Luke laugh because, being teased all the time for being fat and ugly, one only had two choices, go silent and shy, or become a smartass, I chose the latter, and he’d walked me home.