Page 90 of Guarding Grace
“Elliot must have royally fucked up this time to have the mob after you. Good thing you have Terry by your side now.”
I nodded along with that, which was a terrible idea while I was applying mascara. “That’s for sure.” I grabbed a cleaning wipe to deal with the mascara failure.
“That Victor what’s-his-name?—”
“Russo,” I added.
“—is one sick puppy, but he’s also a dumb fuck. My brother and all the guys he works with are lethal with a capital L. If the guy is stupid enough to take on Hawk, he’s not long for this world.”
I cringed, remembering Terry’s sniper bullet comment. Then I reapplied my mascara with my head still this time. “I’m worried they’ll bring more men.”
“Did I tell you about the time my friend Tina and I thought we were grown-up enough to go to The Broken Spoke?”
This time, I lifted the brush before shaking my head. “The biker bar?”
“That’s the one. We were young and wild without a clue, and plenty drunk. Anyway, a pair of guys got real handsy with Tina, and I got scared, so I texted Terry. Luckily, he was nearby. Actually, I think he’d followed us because he was worried about me.”
“That sounds like him.”
“Anyway, he rolls in, tells the bikers to leave her alone, and this biker the size of a dump truck and his buddy came at him.”
I moved to the other eye. “Holy shit.”
“After Terry put the big guy down, a bunch more jumped him. My brother laid six of them out cold on the floor, and the whole place went quiet. That’s when he dragged us out.”
I put my mascara away. “That’s some story. I saw something similar when the goons attacked me. It was pow, pow, and the bad guys were down.”
“Then he proceeded to yell at us for a half hour for being so reckless.”
“Sounds about right,” I agreed as I added my necklace. “I gotta go to work. Catch up later?”
“Sure thing. Be careful, and keep Terry close.”
“I will.” I grabbed my handbag, planning on keeping Terry very, very close.
“We gotta get together,” she added. “I want to hear how you reeled in my brother. Should we do Mexican or Italian?”
I changed my mind twice as I walked out toward Terry. “Mexican.” Terry had cooked me Italian and might be planning more of the same. Was it weird that I was already looking forward to another of his meals?
“You got it.”
“I gotta go,” I told her again. It wouldn’t do to have Terry hear me planning a girls’ night to talk about him. “Bye.” I stashed the phone in my big bag.
“Ready?” Terry asked when I turned the corner.
“As soon as I feed the cats.”
“Make it quick.”
Once he heard the can open, Clyde bounded in, followed by Bonnie.
I slapped the food in soup bowls and put them on the floor.
“Ready now?” Terry asked.
I nodded and followed him down the stairs, wishing he’d been asking if I was ready for more action. It had to be the biker-bar story Deb had told me, but something had me hot to trot again for this man.
He locked the door behind us and opened the door of the Porsche for me.
