Relentless: A Bad Boy Romance (Bertoli Crime Family #1) (37 page)

However, there was a third concern that left me sleepless for the rest of the night. I just couldn’t help but think I was going to walk into work at Lake Ford and find myself terminated. When Hank Lake called me into his office the next morning, I was sure of it. I hadn't even started my shift yet.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Lake?" I asked, mentally debating if I was willing to debase myself enough to beg for my job, or at least ask to finish out the day. I could have used the money.

Hank looked up from his chair, noticing that I was at least in clean clothes, my coveralls freshly washed and still actually smelling slightly of fabric softener. "Yeah, Bell. I just wanted to tell you that what I saw last night, stays last night. To be honest, I was impressed at how calm you stayed."

I was stunned. Recovering quickly, I found my voice. "Thank you, sir. I apologize if I caused any trouble."

Hank shook his head. "Not at all. I've met Abby Rawlings before. She's a beautiful young woman. Of course, I assume you know that she and Chris were involved before."

I nodded. "Yes sir. But when I met Abby, I didn't know that. When we were in the service, Chris never told me her name. It wasn't until later that the connection was made."

Hank tapped his desk, pondering for a moment before shrugging and continuing. "I see. Well, that's not here nor there, I’d prefer to stay out of that issue. In any case, I just wanted to let you know. By the way, I saw you weren't scheduled for the weekend this week. Planning on enjoying the time off?"

It was my turn to shrug, as I was still flummoxed from the past thirty seconds of conversation. "I was thinking I might look at some apartments if I get the chance. I'm not quite ready yet, but I'm itching to stand on my own. I looked in the paper and saw a few cheap places that don't need a big deposit."

"Most likely in neighborhoods where you're going to be putting that military training of yours to daily use," Hank said with a laugh, tossing his pen onto his desk, where it clattered before coming to rest on his blotter. "All right, I'm not going to tell a man not to be a man. If you need a reference or anything, give them my number."

That conversation had calmed my last fear, and the rest of the week went well. Now, on Friday night, I was in the park relaxing after work not because of lack of funds, but because when I came back to the Tower, I found a tie hanging on the doorknob of the apartment. Holding my ear to the door confirmed that Chris did have some female companion over, a quite vocal one at that. I figured tonight would be a good night to just chill out, and backed away from the door, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening. From the sounds of it, Chris and the lady were enjoying each other's company, and I'd need plans until at least midnight, if not morning.

Thankfully, unlike some of the guys in the shop who wore their work clothes to and from work, I used the locker room. So while my clothes weren’t exactly dressy, they wouldn't get me kicked out of an Applebee’s either.

The sun was still low on the horizon and the sky was golden when my phone rang, and I opened it up to see Abby's name on the caller ID. "Abby?"

"Hi, Dane," she said, her voice sounding a bit nervous. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good, but the past five seconds have been the best part of my day," I replied honestly. "It's good to hear your voice again."

"You too," she said. "I know this sounds weird and all, but I was really hoping I could see you again tomorrow. Daddy won't know."

I should have said no. I knew it. I should have said that if we were going to see each other, then we had to be honest with her father, even if it meant that he would be pissed off. I should have, but I didn't. Instead, I let my lust do the talking, which said that if I had to make my way through a mile of rabid pit bulls to see this woman, I would. "Of course. I have the day off, lucky for me. What do you want to do?"

"How about you meet me at the Midtown MARTA station?" Abby asked. "And dress casual. It'll be a surprise. I'll be honest, I'm kind of making this up as I talk."

"Deal," I said, leaning back and just relishing the sound of her voice in my ear. "Abby, are you going to get in trouble for this?"

"Sometimes things are worth getting in trouble for," she said softly. "I didn't understand that before . . . but I think I do now."

"I know what you mean," I said, sitting up on the grass and watching a couple of kids throwing a Frisbee back and forth. "Abby, you're causing a lot of emotional changes in me. Some of them are pretty scary, actually."

I could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, but still, a trace of nervousness clung to her honeyed tones. "Really? Like what?"

"Like for the first time since I can remember, I think there might be a chance that I could find real happiness in life," I said. "Like maybe I'm not just a barely tolerated dog in the world, to be kicked and smacked around until I lose it and bite back. Like maybe there is someone for me, and that there might be a chance at . . . well . . .”

"At what?" she asked, her breath caught in her throat. I could tell she wanted me to say it, but I didn’t want to say it prematurely. We still had a while to go.

"At love," I finally said in a whisper. I ran my hand through my hair and laughed. "Is that too much to hope for?"

"No." Abby's answer came back at nearly the same level of whisper that I had used. "I feel the same way. I don’t know if that’s what this is, but I have hope.”

* * *

T
he next day
, I waited outside the Midtown MARTA station when a white Chevy Camaro pulled up and Abby waved. I hurried over, jumping in on the passenger side. Looking around the interior, I ran my hand over the real leather, impressed. Maybe it was living in the Mayfair Tower, maybe it was that I had a job of my own now, but I had come to be able to appreciate the trappings of Abby's economic status without being too worried about my position relative to them. "Wow, this is a great car."

"Thanks," Abby said. I couldn't help it—I stared at her as she pulled out. She was wearing jean shorts, not quite short shorts but damn close, with what I was sure was about a mile and a half of toned, beautifully tanned leg sticking out, along with a blue tank top and her hair pulled back into a thick, braided ponytail that completed the package. I could feel blood begin to rush to my cock, and I could only sit there like an idiot. When we got to the stop light, she looked over at me and smiled shyly. "You're staring. And not wearing your seat belt."

"Sorry," I replied, jerking my eyes away and putting on my belt. "Just . . . you look beautiful today. So what is on your agenda?"

Abby's smile was contagious, and she jerked a thumb behind her. I looked and saw the folded bulge of a blanket and a picnic basket. "I guess you can tell, but I'm an outdoors-type girl, and I couldn't think of anything better than having a picnic with my boyfriend."

"Is that what we are now?” I asked. I tried to think back to the last time a girl had called me her boyfriend, and I realized it was nearly a decade prior, back when I'd just gotten out of high school. Of course, I’d had plenty of hookups since then, at least before Iraq, but never had I been someone's boyfriend. “Are you sure about that? I’m not the most popular guy around here.”

Abby got on I-85 and headed north, letting the horses under the hood of her car walk it out some. I wasn't sure exactly what she had, except that it was one of the newer Camaros, but I doubted she was running a factory standard motor under the hood. I'd heard enough engines in the near month that I was working at Lake Ford to know a tuned up car when I heard it. “I’m positive,” she said as she smoothly merged. “After today, I was thinking that no matter what, I’m going to tell Daddy we’re going to see each other. He’ll be so pissed off at me that I lied to him, but I don't care. After last week, I have to follow my heart, and it’s time for me to put a stop to him controlling my life. I’ve let it go on for so long that it has become second-nature to him.”

"So what did you tell him, anyway?" I asked, curious. I wanted to say something else, but didn't have the words just yet. "Just so that when he kicks in my door with his twelve-gauge ready, I’ll know what to say."

"Oh, he doesn't have a twelve-gauge," Abby said, then looked over at me. "He's got a ten-gauge."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Even worse. Although I guess it means more mess for the coroner to pick up. It's worth it, though. So what did you tell him?"

"Well, I was invited to a party by Chris Lake," she said, "down near the reservoir. Anyway, I didn't tell him flat out yes, but I did arrange for Shawnie to go in my place. She's going to say that I invited her too, and that I would meet her there. If Chris asks, I'll tell him that I had car trouble or something. Daddy doesn't need to know more about it, except that you and I were together instead of at the party like I'd originally told him."

The way she said
together
sent shivers down my spine, and I hummed, half nervously. "So, we're lying to both your father and to the man who is giving me a place to stay. This sounds like a dangerous game.”

"I'm willing to take the plunge if you are," Abby said. It was easy for her to say. She had never really experienced any consequences in her life. Not that I wasn’t in—I was all in—but I wasn’t sure if she would stick to it once the going got tough.

"Dane . . . my feelings for you are hard to put words to."

"Then let's wait until we get to wherever it is you're taking us," I said. “It's probably safer to drive when you're not searching for words."

We left Atlanta, heading out into the suburbs, until Abby took an off-ramp and drove me down a few winding roads to the side of a river. "I thought about a park. I even thought about us going to Six Flags, but I decided that I wanted something more private."

“Even better,” I said amiably as I got the picnic basket and blanket out of the back. "Ooof, this thing weighs a ton. What all do you have in here?"

"You're a big man, with big appetites," Abby teased, her meaning very clear. "I wanted to make sure we were both satiated today."

Abby led me down a narrow path to a clearing, where I spread out the blanket. "What is this place?"

"Just a fishing spot that Daddy and I would sometimes go to when the creek at the house was boring," Abby said. "It's special to him because it's the spot where he and Mom got engaged."

Abby spread out the blanket underneath a huge magnolia tree, the shadows from the wide leaves giving us plenty of shade. "It's beautiful today," she said as I took a seat.

"Abby, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Shoot.” Abby opened the basket and took out a sub sandwich wrapped in butcher paper. It was easily a foot long, and about as big around as my forearm. It looked like it could have fed a horse. "Sorry. I would have come up with something more homemade, but it would have looked funny. Thankfully, the picnic basket was in the garage, or else we'd be eating our picnic out of a plastic shopping bag."

"This is just fine," I said, unwrapping it to find a turkey sub with bacon and cranberry mustard dressing. Easily a half pound of turkey slices, probably an entire pack of bacon, and just a bit of cheese complimented the whole package. "It's a little Thanksgiving, isn't it?"

"You can always enjoy a good Thanksgiving," Abby said, taking out a can of Pringles and a bottle of Cheerwine. She handed them to me, then got her own, much smaller sandwich and sides out, along with the same Cheerwine. When I looked at her bottle, she raised it in a salute. "A Southern tradition, you know."

“I love it,” I answered, toasting her and opening both bottles. "I guess my question is, what happens next?"

"What do you mean, next?" Abby asked carefully, setting her bottle down. "Do you mean with me going to grad school? Well, I'm planning on going to GT for my Masters too, and after that, well, we'll just have to see. What do you think of North Carolina? Duke and UNC both have great Ph.D. programs."

"Last time I went to North Carolina, it was on leave," I said, thinking back into my memories. "I ran into some boys from the 82nd. When they found out I was 101st, we had a
friendly
discussion that ended up with my getting a black eye."

Abby laughed and sighed. "That's what I like about you, Dane."

"What?" I asked, taking a huge bite out of my sandwich. It was juicy and delicious, and I reminded myself to get the address of the shop from Abby, no matter what. "That I got my ass kicked? I mean, I gave as good as I got against three other guys, but that’s beside the point.”

"No, that you're secure enough in who you are and in your maturity that you’re willing to admit that. Any other man I've ever met, after the way we met, at least, would have told me a litany of lies that made him look like the world's biggest badass," she said, laying back on the blanket and letting her body stretch out. She looked so sexy, I couldn't have taken my eyes from her anyway. “You’re the real deal, and you don’t try to flaunt it. It’s refreshing. And you know what else?"

"What?" I asked.