Page 11 of Lust
And he wasn’t dressed. The place wasn’t ready. Unopened boxes from storage still littered the room and stacked against the wall. As usual, Liza had waltzed into his life and turned his plans upside down. He’d wanted the night with just the old boys so he could drill them for information on his new case. This would ruin everything.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and slid Liza a resigned look. “Make yourself useful for once and leave.”
Her eyes were still glued to his crotch. The blood had drained from her face and it looked like she’d seen a ghost. He snapped his fingers. “Liza, I know it’s impressive, but you need to go.Capeesh?”
“I’m not going anywhere, you turd. You can’t invite half the precinct to a poker night and not me.” The tremble in her voice betrayed the anger in her eyes. “So march yourself back to the shower, finish... what I obviously interrupted, and I’ll set everything up.”
He stifled a smile as she blustered to his kitchen. He’d ruffled her feathers. Good. Wait—what was she doing? She opened the fridge and pulled out the antipasto plate he’d purchased. Sensing his attention, her shoulders tensed. Without looking up, she said, “Codename: Baseball.”
Well, shit.
He had to follow the rules. If he didn’t, then he was shitting all over their history, over what those simple two words had meant. And they had meant the world to a thirteen-year-old boy with a stinky arm cast who’d secretly left the signed baseball in a twelve-year-old girl’s lunch box so she’d sit with him when no one else would.
With no other option, he returned to his bedroom, slid on some jeans, and slipped on a t-shirt. A quick check in the mirror saw to his hair. With it messy, he looked too much like his father, and that wouldn’t do.
Joe flexed his fist, watching his fingers curl and then open, wanting to dispel the feeling of violence that always seemed beneath the surface. He’d only ever let it slip once.
“You’re just like your father,” his mother shouted at him in their car, parked before his school. “You think you’re so different, but you’re not. You’re exactly the same.”
“I am nothing like him,” Joe shot back, ignoring the way his heart crumbled inside. “I raised my fist in defense, not from some sick desire to dominate.”
He’d started a fight, which resulted in suspension from high school. Three days was his penalty. But it was worth it. Those assholes had called Liza a slut behind her back.
His mother had only laughed as she turned the ignition on and put the car into gear. “You keep telling yourself that, Joey, but you Luciano men are all the same. Any excuse to beat someone senseless will do. Today it’s a boy in the yard, but eventually, you’ll bruise the people closest to you, too.”
Joe cracked his knuckles, then shook his hands out.
He’d been proving his mother wrong his whole life. And he owed Liza, at least one last time before he pulled her life apart. He covered up the case files on his bed and hid them beneath the mattress. Then he covered the crime scene pictures on the wall with a large city map poster. The last thing he needed was for Liza to barge in and see what he was investigating. She’d blow the case.
4
Liza half expectedJoe to boot her out of his apartment. There wasn’t room for her at the small round table with only two chairs. Houlahan and Briggs brought fold-up camping chairs. Tom from administration took the second chair.
“Liza,” Houlahan said with a frown at the lack of table space. “I didn’t know you were invited. I would have brought another chair.”
She cracked the cap off a beer and handed it to him with a wink. “My invite got lost in the mail.”
With no television in the apartment, the couch faced the balcony’s sliding door windows. She studied the layout and, for a moment, almost turned tail and left, but decided she would not cave that easily. She wanted answers from Joey—ahem,Joe—and he was being a jerk about it. He was either going to give them to her now, or she would wait until the end of the night. Besides, she liked poker and was pissed she hadn’t been invited. She would not let this go.
“Shift the table near the couch. I’ll lean against the back of it,” she said and gestured with her hand.
The three detectives helped her move the furniture, and before they knew it, they were all settled down for their first round of poker, much to Joe’s chagrin and sideways glare as he finished setting up refreshments on the kitchen counter.
He returned to the table without a drink for her, but made sure the guys were served.
Ooh. So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? The old cold shoulder standoff.
“You’re showing your colors, Luciano,” she murmured with a hint of tease in her voice.
He raised a brow as he picked up his cards and sorted them. “How so, Lazarus?”
As if he didn’t know.
“Forgetting to serve the lady? If that’s how you screw, then no wonder you’re living alone in this one bedroom.”
“Lady?” Joe snorted. “I don’t see a lady.”
The men chuckled cheekily behind their cards. She stared coldly at her hand, letting her anger simmer beneath the surface. She’d received shit her entire life at the precinct for being a little more masculine than feminine. It wasn’t her body, she had curves in all the right places. It was the lack of makeup and girly fashion. Her potty mouth. Her practical, nail-polish free hands. If only they knew how deadly those hands could be. Bitterness lanced her tongue.Not a lady, huh?
