Page 20 of Bad Men

His mouth skimmed mine when he murmured, “I would much rather show you.”

“I’m at work,” I tried to remind myself.

“Yeah,” he agreed, stroking his lips against my bottom lip.

“I...” My train of thought derailed with the subtle nip of his teeth on the lip he just kissed. The jolt rippled in waves to my core. “Davien.” His shirt crumpled in my fingers. “People are watching.”

Heavy lashes lifted and I found myself lost in the hot pits of absolute darkness.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured.

The idea of letting him quench the flames he’d lit right there momentarily made all the sense in the world, but the logical part of my brain still had some sense left in it.

I drew back.

“I can’t here. I need this job,” I said, mostly to myself. “But my parents aren’t home and won’t be for most of the night. I’ll have the house to myself.”

I let the implication hang between us even as I pulled reluctantly free of his embrace.

At the end of my shift, I had him leave his car at the diner and told him to give me a ten-minute head start before following and to come in through the back alley behind the house. Our little corner of the city may have appeared large, but people knew each other, and they all definitely knew Davien and Nero, and who they worked for. It would only take one person to spread the news that Luis and Marie’s daughter was seen waltzing through town with one of Eduardo’s well-known thugs. While I didn’t care what they all thought, I couldn’t let that get back to my parents; everyone knew what kind of girls gave themselves willingly to men like them. It didn’t have a pretty title. I wasn’t one of those girls, not that anyone would believe that. It was a humiliation I didn’t want my family to have to suffer through.

I stepped through the front door and locked it behind me. I kicked out of my shoes and hung my purse up on the hook and froze — Mom’s bag was still in its place next to mine. She never went to work without it.

“Mom?” I called through the silence, praying she’d switched bags or just forgotten it.

A moment passed, then another.

“Mia?”

If I was much of a swearer, I would have sworn. Instead, I hurried across our cluttered living room and into the kitchen.

Mom sat at the table on her favorite pink cushion, that morning’s paper spread across the surface, a pair of scissors and several neatly clipped coupons at her elbow. A cup of steaming, green tea rested between her hands.

“What are you doing home?” I asked, wishing my tone wasn’t accusing even as my panicked gaze jumped to the window just behind my mother’s back. “Are you okay?”

“There was some flood in the building,” she answered simply, never looking up from her coupon hunting. “They told everyone to stay home until it’s cleaned up. Mr. MacKay even said we’d get paid for it, isn’t that nice?”

I shot a glance around the room, expecting my dad to be there somewhere. He wasn’t.

“Where’s Dad?”

She flipped a page, her movement stiff and shaky. “His shift started before mine. He’s the one who called to tell me not to come in. He’ll be home soon.”

My attention went to the window again, searching for the man I’d told to meet me there. Stupidly, I realized I’d left my phone in my purse on the other side of the house and I hadn’t programmed Davien’s number in, so I would have to find the slip he’d given me, punch in the number … there wasn’t any time. He would be arriving any minute.

I looked at my mother again with her black hair slicked back into a neat bun at the back of her head and the worry lines cut deep around her eyes. She’d always been a beautiful woman, but stress and pain had stolen so many years off her already. If Davien waltzed in for no good reason, or any reason at all, it would send her into an early grave. I had to get her out of the kitchen, or I had to get Davien around to the front of the house without anyone noticing.

I opened my mouth to suggest she get into bed and relax until supper, but something beneath our feet took that moment to rumble. It vibrated along the linoleum, creating a ripple across the surface of Mom’s tea. We both exchanged glances as a clunking sound followed.

Mom’s face morphed into one of exasperation. She slapped her cup down on the table, sloshing amber liquid over the rim.

“That stupid thing!”

With great carefulness, she shuffled to her feet. I knew a good daughter would have offered to go instead. But all I did was stand there, mute and grateful for the distraction as my mom edged her way carefully to the cellar door.

“I told your father he needed to look at that damn thing. How are we supposed to wash clothes around here?” She started down the rickety steps leading down into the dank hole below. “I swear, it’s going to explode one day and where will that leave us then?” She rattled on about a torched house and more bills as she descended into the darkness.

I waited until her footsteps had hit the cement at the bottom before sprinting to the backdoor and yanking it open.

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