Tag: Vicki

This snippet is from Chapter 3.  As you’ll learn in Victor’s book, Vicki is trying to establish her own fashion line.  She’s working hard to launch her line next month, but she’s not happy with her pieces so far.  Something’s missing, but she can’t put her finger on it.

Until Jesse arrives.

“Any color will go with black, white, and gray. How about green to complement the red?”

Closing her eyes, she fought not to lean back and rub her entire body against him. She hadn’t been held, touched, in months. That’s all this was. A night with Elias, and she’d forget this insane need that had risen its ugly head. “Too Christmasy.”

“The colors you’ve chosen so far are hard and dramatic, a bit like you and Reyes,” he mused aloud. “He’s harsh and grim. As a cop, everything is black and white. Right or wrong, law and order or utter chaos. I bet he despises the gray. Gray is where people begin to tell lies. All too soon, gray leads to black. There can be no middle ground, no compromise, or black wins every time. Everything has to be in its proper place, right or wrong, and he’s always right.”

His analysis was spot-on, but then again, Elias wasn’t that hard to read. She wasn’t too concerned, until Jesse began analyzing her.

“Meanwhile, you’re definitely red: passionate, uncontrolled wildfire. You clash with black because of those passions and you never give up without a fight.”

His gentle voice didn’t sound aggressive or inflammatory, but he dared a soft brush of his lips against her ear that damned near made her knees buckle.

“Maybe you need a buffer between you and him. Someone softer, gentler, who can absorb all the dramatics without falling apart, who would never try to set one against the other, and will always do exactly as you say, when you say, how you say, no questions asked. Someone who’d relish getting burned by your sparks, and isn’t afraid of the harder black, either. In fact, you just might like someone who can take it hard, real hard, as hard as you want.”

She knew, then, that she was in serious trouble. Street-smart and worldly in ways she couldn’t even comprehend, Jesse had just voiced the crux of her relationship problems with Elias. In the great war of passion between them, Jesse offered himself as Switzerland.

What he didn’t get at all was that Elias would go all shock-and-awe on them both if she even thought about it.

So why am I thinking about it?

She couldn’t tell Jesse that he was wrong, because he wasn’t, and she couldn’t refuse him, because he had to know how fast her heart was pounding. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

Ironically, now she knew exactly which color to use in her line.

Without saying a word or turning toward him, she stepped away. He let her go without trying to hold her back. Trailing her fingers along the fabrics, she walked down to the opposite end of the shelving, straining up high to reach a shimmering bolt of blue-lagoon silk.

It’d been an impulse buy, rather embarrassing, actually, because she’d never thought she’d end up using it, and it’d cost her a small fortune. The color was too bright, too jewel-toned for business wear, and too seasonally restrictive for all-year wear. Or so she’d thought as she’d shoved it on the highest shelf out of her way.

Bracing herself mentally, she raised her gaze to his face as she walked toward him. His eyes, so bright, so hot and intense, made darker and richer by the silk in her hands. Her chest constricted and she felt that answering surge of attraction again, deeper and more compelling every time she looked at him. If he’d stop looking at her like that, begging her with his eyes to devour him whole, then maybe she could pretend nothing had changed.

He was just a good guy who’d fallen on hard times.

She was just a good Samaritan.

He didn’t have to get in the middle of her romantic mess.

Her cheeks burned at the thought. The image of him and Elias both touching her seared her mind, burning her to ash. She’d never once thought about such a thing, but now…

She draped the silk over the center rack and stepped back to look at her entire collection. If she made a simple turquoise shell to wear with the black pantsuit, and maybe something with gray and turquoise mixed together, it might work. She just needed to settle on the signature piece for herself.

“What do you think?” She didn’t turn to look at him, afraid that he’d see the growing need in her eyes and take the next step himself. “Is it too much?”

“Nothing’s too much for you.”

A lump crowded her throat, making it impossible to breathe. “Jesse—”

“Hear me out, please.” He stepped closer, hovering slightly behind and to the side without touching her. “Keep your cop. I don’t care. Just keep me, too.”

I said I wasn’t going to post any more, but I still don’t have blog fodder.  My mind is consumed by Evil Day Job fun and Vicki.  So I guess you get a little more Vicki. 
😉
This scene takes place in Chapter 2 (I didn’t paste all of this section).  Elias and Jesse are sitting at the breakfast bar while Vicki makes chili.  Here, you see Jesse’s background, and Elias isn’t such an asshole.  You also see Vicki’s vow…and yes, her mistake.  She doesn’t fully understand what she’s promising Jesse in this scene.  For him, this scene shifts from “nice lady helping a homeless person” to “my lady, my whole world.”

“I left home when I was fifteen, just a proud, stupid kid who thought I knew better than my old man. He was a washed-up wannabe country singer doing bars in Nashville, trying to catch a break, and I thought he was a mean bastard. I hung with the wrong crowd, made some bad decisions, dropped out of school, got arrested for shoplifting, drugs, you name it.”

Vicki turned so she could see his face. He smiled, a strange, beautiful twist of his mouth that made her want to cry for him, and then dropped his gaze to his hands wrapped around his cup.

“When you’re young and stupid, you don’t think the bad stuff could ever possibly happen to you. You can drink and drive and not get caught, certainly never wreck your car or hurt anyone else. You can go to class or your job high and no one will ever know. You can walk out on your old man, call him every name in the book, and laugh when you find out the mean SOB died of a heart attack. Then you realize that you were the only one stupid enough to buy your bullshit, and the only person left in the whole world who ever cared about you is gone.”

She couldn’t help but take his trembling hand in hers. He clung to her but didn’t look up.

“I’ve done bad things. I’ve seen and lived worse. I’ve tried to leave those things behind, but they aren’t as easy to wash off as the dirt.”

“There are shelters…” Elias began in a gentle voice, but Jesse only shook his head on a harsh laugh.

“I’d rather go back to prison. At least then I’d know the man raping me would protect me in the yard tomorrow.” He raised his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. “When I got out of prison, I was clean and I’d earned my GED while behind bars. I had two minimum-wage jobs and I gladly worked my ass off. I had an apartment—wasn’t much and I paid by the week, but it was mine. I could lock the door and sleep almost through the night without waking up in a cold terror that someone was coming in.

“But then I got sick. Just the flu, but as soon as I missed a day of work, they fired me. I didn’t have much money saved, and I lost my apartment as soon as I missed the first week’s rent. I didn’t have any place to go, no family left, no one to take me in but the drug dealers I’d known before jail.

“I could have gone back to running drugs for them, selling on the corners and in the schools, but I didn’t. It would have been a hell of a lot easier. I live on what I earn with my art, drug-free and legal, but once you lose everything, it’s hard to get people to see you. If I walk in for an interview in the only decent pair of jeans I’ve got left, it won’t matter if I shaved or if my fingernails are clean, because I still stink of the streets.”

She didn’t realize she was crying, until Elias slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. Jesse loosened his fingers on her hand, but she gripped him tighter, refusing to let him go. “See?” She sobbed against Elias’s shirt. “See why I had to help him?”

“I know,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “You were right. I apologize, Jesse, for slamming you up against the wall like that. I should have trusted her judgment.”

“You saw me. Me,” Jesse whispered, but his voice rang with intent. “You’ve already given me a chance to get a real job just by letting me take a shower. I look like a normal, decent person, someone who is hire-able, and for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re going to stay here.” Wiping her eyes, Vicki straightened and shot a firm glare at Elias, silencing whatever arguments he might throw at her. “I’ll help you find a job and get back on your feet. No matter how long it takes, you won’t end up on the street again. Do you hear me?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Jesse’s lips and he ducked his head, as though tipping his hat to her. “Yes’m.”

“If something happens to you again, if you’re ever out there, lost, alone, then you call me.” Her voice broke but she didn’t soften her stance. She leaned across the counter, squeezing his hand to make sure he met her gaze. “Call me. Anytime. Anywhere. Reverse the charges. Mail me a letter [hahaha, had to get a Dear Sir reference in somewhere]. Whatever it takes. I’ll come get you and bring you home. You can count on me to be there for you.”

His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, crystal jewels in spring water. “You…I…” He bowed his head, shoulders shaking, and she felt his tears falling like rain on her hand still gripping his. Raggedly, he whispered, “I’ve never had a real home.”

“You can always come home to me.”

Okay, this section ends Chapter 1.  This is the last I’ll share for awhile — hopefully things will settle down and I’ll be inspired by new blog topics.  If there’s anything you’ve been wishing I’d blog about, feel free to ask in comments.

Elias heard her shouting at him as she ran down the stairs, but he didn’t stop. He threw open the door to the rear living quarters, grabbed the invader, and slammed him face first against the wall with a satisfying crunch.

The kid didn’t put up a fight. Man, Elias reminded himself. Not a kid, no matter how scrawny and slender he was, not at twenty five years of age.

Vicki screamed, a high, shrill wail like nothing he’d ever heard from her. “Jesse!”

Her terrified voice pierced through Elias’s rage. As a kid huddled in a narrow bed with his younger brothers and sisters while his drunk father beat the shit out of his mother, he’d sworn to never make a woman scream like that. He slapped cuffs on the man and forced himself to ease off. He had to be the cop in this, not the enraged, jealous, overprotective—and almost always absent—lover.

The junkie stayed against the wall, legs automatically spread. He knew the drill all too well.

“You don’t smell like a bum, so I guess you’ve already taken advantage of your hostess’s hot water. Do you have anything stashed in these nice clean pockets?”

“No, sir.”

Damn it, he even sounded like a kid, his voice breathless and shaking with fear. Elias twisted his lips into a furious snarl. Fear of being caught. Fear of being thrown in jail instead of enjoying a nice cushy night under Vicki’s roof, stealing everything not locked down while she slept.

She stepped between them, her face white and her mouth tight with strain. “I gave him those pants. How dare you come in here and throw him around like this? He’s hurt! Look at him, Elias, he’s bleeding!”

Crying, she cradled the jerk’s face in her hands and wiped the blood from his split lip with a tissue snatched from the bedside table. “Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d come over like this. I didn’t know he’d hurt you.”

“It’s okay. He’s protecting you.  I’ve had much worse done to me.”

The nicer he acted—pretended to be!—the worse Elias felt, which pissed him off even more. He grabbed the ratty duffel bag lying at the foot of the bed and dumped it out, using an ink pen to separate items so he didn’t get poked by a dirty needle. “Any weapons? Drugs? Paraphernalia?”

“No, sir. Just my straight-edge razor. I have used it as protection a few times, but no knives or guns. I haven’t touched drugs in five years. I’ll take a drug test right this minute if you order it.”

Elias flipped open a small wooden case, but all it contained was tiny whittled down pencils and precious little nubs of chalk, so used up that a normal person—with money—would have thrown them out and replaced them long ago. Feeling more and more like a heel, he methodically emptied the pockets of everything. Wadded up small bills littered the bed. A five in each denim pocket, a twenty in the threadbare shirt, several more bills tucked into the rolled socks, but certainly no nice wad of cash that a dealer would carry. Spreading the bills out across the meager belongings would make it more difficult to steal his precious savings.

“I have a hundred dollar bill in each boot hidden beneath the insole.” Jesse leaned against the wall as though the entire building would crumble around them without his weight propping it up. The pants sagged low on his slim hips, and he didn’t have on a shirt. Bones moved beneath his skin in sharp, painful relief. The kid was half starved and malnourished. In despair, he hung his head, his streaked golden-brown hair falling down to hide his face. “Took me a year to save that much because the punks on the street keep stealing it. They know I don’t have a weapon.”

Elias knew the answer, but he wanted to see how many lies the kid might weave. “How do you know Vicki?”

“She used to come to the park where I hang out. When she quit coming, I asked one of her friends what had happened. I missed her, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay. She was always nice to me, but I never thought she’d help me like this.”

“Get these cuffs off him.” Vicki said in a deceptively pleasant voice that sent shards of ice skittering down his spine. This was the defense attorney, not a woman who’d called him to check out a friend. “He’s answered your questions satisfactorily and you have nothing to charge him with. He’s not trespassing and he’s not a danger to me or himself.”

When he hesitated, she narrowed those glittering dark eyes on him and lowered her chin, preparing for the charge. “I might not work for Leeman any longer, but I’ll have him crawling in every orifice you’ve got unless you release Jesse immediately.”

I don’t have any brain cells to spare for fresh blog content today — it’s shaping up to be a major week at the Evil Day Job — so I decided to post the next section of Vicki. 

Warning:  some language, sexual situations discussed. 

Vicki dialed the number and laid the phone down on the counter in speaker mode. Chopping chocolate, she counted the rings, mentally arranging her questions in the most logical order that would lead to the best possible outcome with the least amount of suspicion.

“Reyes.”

By the sharp bark of Elias’s voice, she knew he was already frustrated. Hell, he was always frustrated. Working on a narcotics task force overwhelmed by the Mexican drug cartels tended to frustrate even the most patient of men. A lot could be said about Elias Reyes, but he wasn’t exactly patient.

She decided to be professional and not friendly. He hadn’t been by in months, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. Okay, that was a lie; she’d never forget a moment with Elias, even though they’d fought constantly about their jobs. Then his partner had been killed in a drug bust gone bad by one of her old clients.

He still hadn’t forgiven her.

Now that she’d started her own business, she was still too busy, and he certainly hadn’t bothered to come by. “I need you to run a name through your database.”

“Vik,” he drawled out his nickname for her in that low, sexy voice that always made her want to throw her head back and moan deep in her throat. “I thought you quit defending assholes I put away.”

“I did,” she said evenly, refusing to allow her tone to sharpen defensively. “I need a background run on somebody and you’re the only person in the Dallas PD who will still take my calls.”

He grunted. “What’s the name?”

“Jesse Dean Inglemarre.”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

She heard him typing. He must be at work and already looking up the data for her. Who was she kidding; Elias was always at work. “Any warrants, recent arrests, known gang affiliation. Standard stuff.”

“Got a soc?”

“Nope.”

A few moments went by. She didn’t hear any voices. Usually his office was loud and rowdy at any hour. The war on drugs never slept.

“Looks like your boy last got in trouble five years ago, but nothing recent. No known address. How do you know him?”

“He’s a street artist.” She tried to keep her tone casual and strictly to the truth. Elias could sniff out a lie quicker than a bloodhound. “I used to see him when I worked at Wagner & Leeman Thanks, Elias. I hope you’re not out in this snow tonight.”

“Not so fast, Vik.” Mentally, she groaned. He always was too damned smart for his own good, which meant he was a fine cop who always suspected the worst in people. Unfortunately, he was almost always right. “Why the sudden interest in a homeless street artist in the middle of a snow storm? Surely you’re not thinking about letting this punk into your home.”

“Thanks,” she said firmly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Fuck.” In her mind, she could see him at his desk, jumping to his feet and raking his hand through his hair. “You did. You invited this asshole into your home. Are you insane? He’s a druggie. A scumbag. You know they can never come clean. Give them a ten and they’ll buy a hit instead of food.”

“He’s not like that,” she said quietly, trying to calm him down before he decided to get on his white horse and charge over here like a knight in shining armor. “He just needs a little help.”

“Jesus, Vik, does he have any weapons? Did he bring drugs into your house?”

“No!” Although she hadn’t thought to check. “I can handle this, Reyes.” Deliberately, she emphasized his cop name, the cold and formal relationship they’d used at their jobs even when they shared a bed once in awhile. “I don’t want you to interfere.”

“You should have thought of that,” he said tightly through clenched teeth, “before you invited a homeless junkie to spend the night.”

“I have my phone right here and you’re on speed dial. I promise I’ll call you if I get even a hint of a weird vibe from him, but he’s barely more than a kid, Elias. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You’re damned right he’s not.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“He’s not a kid, Vik, even if he looks helpless and innocent to you. He hasn’t been a kid in a long time. One of his raps was for prostitution when he was barely sixteen. Yeah, he must be a real pretty boy, huh? I’m surprised he came on to you; seems like a rich queer is more up his alley.”

The thought of Jesse’s brilliant eyes scrunched up with pain or staring up at a jerk forcing him to give a blow job made her knees quiver hard enough that she had to sit down in a bar stool. She’d known he must have had a hard life, but the reality made her stomach heave. “He didn’t come on to me.”

“Maybe he’ll come on to me, then.”

“He’s not like that,” she insisted, but her voice quivered. “I saw him in the snow and cold—he was helping me because I fell on the ice!—and I just couldn’t leave him out there.”

“If you used to see him over at the park near Wagner & Leeman, then why the hell was he way out by your place? He was staking you out, Vik. He knew exactly what he was doing when he just happened to walk by. I bet he seemed real shocked to find you, didn’t he? They’re damned good actors when they need to be.”

Torn between outrage and concern, she tried to remember if she’d ever told Jesse where she lived. Would he really come dozens of blocks in the cold just to give her a birthday card? Surely, he couldn’t have pretended that much surprise when she asked him to come inside. She was a good judge of character. She’d seen more than her share of bad guys willing to sell their mamas if it would get them out of prison.

“Jesse’s not like that. He’s not one of the bad guys, Elias. I can see it in his eyes. He just needs someone to give him a break.”

Wheels screeched on the street below so loudly that she jumped up and ran to the window. Elias jumped out of his truck and stormed up to the door of her building. “I’ll give him a break. I’ll break his fucking arm if he even lays a finger on you.”

“Bastard,” she retorted, glaring down at him. “I told you I could handle this!”

“Let me in, Vik, or I’m going to owe you a new door.”