All Things Pretty (6 page)

When we reach Lance Tonin’s building, I drop
Tommi at the front and go back around to the side to park in the
garage. Alone, I take the elevator up to the penthouse. I can hear
the raised voices as soon as I pass the two goons that stand guard
in the foyer.

“It’s for your safety. If you have nothing
to hide then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Tonin is saying.

“Just what is it that you think that I’m
doing?”

I’m ushered by a third goon through the
marble foyer, with its light gray walls and muted lighting. To me,
everything has this cold, dark look, like there’s perpetual shade
in here. Or maybe it just looks shady. Like the owner of the place.
Goon number three drops me off in the equally drab living room.
It’s a sea of whites, blacks and grays and the only color besides
Tonin’s ruddy, pock-marked face is in Tommi’s flushed cheeks and
her jewel green shirt.

“I assume you’re doing precisely what you
tell me you’re doing. I
know
you know what would happen if I
found out you were lying to me.”

“Yes, I
do
know. So then why have me
followed?”

“You’re not being followed. You’re being
protected. There’s a difference.”

“It doesn’t feel different. It feels like an
invasion of my privacy.”

“You shouldn’t need privacy from me. I love
you. I have only your best interests at heart.” Hearing the word
love come from an asshole like Tonin’s lips is about as incongruous
as Mike Tyson in a Gandhi costume. A guy like Lance Tonin doesn’t
love anything but money. Possessions. Power. And his facial
expression tells me I’m right. There’s no love there. No real
concern. Obsession maybe, but no love.

“It’s not
my
privacy, per se. It’s
Travis’s. Do you know what this will do to his routine?”

“Fine then Sig will keep a safe distance
when you’re with Travis, but he
will be
going with you. This
is non-negotiable.”

Tommi’s spine is so straight it looks like
she might split in two if she tries to bend. I can tell she wants
to say something else, but she’s keeping it to herself. Fear?
Maybe. But I don’t think so. She doesn’t look afraid. She just
looks…pissed. But then why not speak up? There seem to be some
subtleties about their dynamic that I need to learn. I probably
shouldn’t care. After all, I’m here to take down Tonin by whatever
means necessary. I tell myself that Tommi might be “whatever means”
and knowing all I can know about her will only help me.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

I ignore the fact that I’m anxious to know
her, to learn her, to get a feel for her. She damn near fascinates
me, but luckily I’m not the type to let a woman get to me. The
fairer sex is a helluva lot of fun and I love everything about
their bodies and the way their minds work, but when it comes to
matters of the heart, I keep my distance. Not much good comes from
love and that knowledge will serve me well in situations like this.
There’s zero danger of me getting too close.

Angrily, Tommi slings her purse strap over
her shoulder and stalks toward me, barking a short, “Let’s go,” as
she passes.

I glance at Tonin and he bobs his head once,
his already-thin lips thinning further as his jaw flexes
rhythmically. “Don’t lose her.”

I return his sharp nod. “No problem.”

With my long legs, I catch up to Tommi
before the elevator doors close. I stick my hand in to stop it,
grinning at the way her eyes flash at me.

“I don’t see anything funny about this
situation.”

“Funny? Not funny, but your eyes are like
green fire and your cheeks are all pink and flushed, like you’ve
just been fuc– errr, like you’ve just been kissed. It’s sexy as
hell. And I always grin at sexy-as-hell women.”

If anything, I think she actually gets
madder. Which makes me wanna smile all the more. I edge up close to
her and stick out my bent arm. “Wanna punch me? Would that make you
feel better?”

She turns furious eyes up to mine and, for a
second, I think she’s gonna cuss me out, the way her mouth drops
open. But she doesn’t. Instead, she balls up her fist and pulls
back to land a decent punch to my deltoid.

I nod at her. “Not bad for a girl.”

“Want me to try again? Below the waist? With
my knee?” She says the words through gritted teeth, like she
relishes the thought of nailing me in the balls.

“As much as I like the thought of my ‘below
the waist’ being on your mind, that’s not exactly what I was
thinking.”

Her stiff posture and angry expression ease.
“You
wish
I was thinking about your ‘below the waist’.”

“Hell yeah, I do. A beautiful woman like
you, what man wouldn’t?”

She cocks her head to one side and watches
me. “Lance is very jealous, you know. Aren’t you aren’t afraid of
what he’d do to you for saying things like that to me?”

“Men take crazy risks for the love of a
beautiful woman.”

Something sad happens in her eyes. “But it’s
not love you’re after, is it Sig?”

“Is it love
you’re
after?”

She pauses before she answers thoughtfully,
“Isn’t everyone?”

Before I can respond, the elevator doors
open and she turns to walk out, her pace slower than it was when
she left the living room upstairs. We make our way to her car in
silence. I wait for her to click the remote that opens the door and
then I reach around to open it, effectively trapping her between me
and the car.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask her
softly. My dick twitches when her big doe eyes fall to my lips and
stay there. She nods. “I promise you won’t know I’m even here. Just
let me follow you.”

Her eyes finally rise back up to mine and
she nods again. “Please don’t disappoint me.” She says it quietly.
Earnestly. Like she’s talking about much more than just this
conversation. I feel a stab of guilt, knowing that not only will
she be disappointed, but she’ll likely get into
some amount
of trouble in the end, when all is said and done.

Out of necessity, I brush it off and put on
the glib guy that I’ve always been. “Baby, I
never
disappoint.”

One side of her mouth tweaks up in a
humorless, lopsided grin. “
Everyone
disappoints.”

With that, she drops down into the driver’s
seat and waits, without meeting my eyes, for me to close the
door.

Who the hell is this woman? And who has hurt
her?

CHAPTER ELEVEN- TOMMI

I glance back at Sig’s handsome face,
partially concealed by the sexiest sunglasses I’ve ever seen. He’s
leaning to the right, his wrist draped casually over the steering
wheel of his big truck. He looks relaxed. Competent. Sexy.

Sexy, sexy, sexy! Why does that word keep
popping up in my head?

Because he is. Everything about him is sexy.
His smile, his voice, his eyes, his walk, his body. Even his stupid
truck. Somehow he manages to make it look sexy, like a motorcycle
on four jacked-up tires.

Stop being so ridiculous!

I pull my eyes to the road ahead just in
time to slam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending Toyota in front
of me. I bite back a curse, straightening my arms and legs as my
car comes to a screeching halt. When the little old woman manages
to make her left hand turn, I let out the breath I sucked in and
glance in my mirror one last time. Sig is smiling, a smug smile
that says he knows what I was thinking. It’s both infuriating and
exhilarating enough to make my stomach flip over.

It’s easier to ignore him after I pick up
Travis. I pull alongside the curb right in front of where he’s
standing and lean over to open the passenger side door. “Sorry I’m
a couple of minutes late,” I tell him as he gets in.

“Whatever,” he says, jerking his baseball
cap lower over his eyes. Even without his telltale tick, I can see
that he’s agitated. I’m never late. I make a point not to be. He is
very sensitive to any disruptions in his schedule that are
perpetrated by others.

“Did you take your meds today?”

Travis turns to look at me with eyes the
exact shade of mine. “I always take my meds. Stop asking me shit
like that!”

I don’t think anything of his defensiveness.
He’s always like this after school. It stresses him out to try and
be normal, as he calls it. The symptoms of his Asperger’s seem to
have worsened since Lance has been requiring more of my nights.
Unfortunately, I’m stuck, which means Travis is, too. At least for
a while longer.

A subject change is in order. “Guess what
I’m making for dinner tonight?”

Travis turns to look out the window,
shrugging his thin shoulders in a silent reply.

“It’s one of your top four favorites.”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be there,” he tells
me sullenly.

“Why? Where will you be?”

“I’m going to Trip’s.”

Alarm bells sound in the back of my mind.
“Why is it that every night that I don’t have plans with Lance, you
make some with Trip?”

He shrugs again. “He called and asked me to
come over to game.”

Trip is one of Lance’s friends. At first, I
was so happy that Travis was being
willingly
social that I
didn’t think to question it, but as time has passed, I’ve begun to
think that Trip’s influence is not a good thing. Then I found out
that Trip is a felon. Just what Travis needs in his life.

Not.

Maybe I should’ve nipped it in the bud
sooner, because now Travis maintains that Trip is a true friend and
I’m afraid to push too hard to get Trip out of his life. Travis
cracked once before and we nearly lost everything in the aftermath.
And we didn’t have
all that much
left to lose.

I swallow a sigh. One more in my long, long
list of regrets.

“Travis, if he–”

“Don’t start with me,
Tommi
,” he
snaps flatly, still not looking at me, not meeting my eyes. A habit
I know is exacerbated when he’s feeling guilty.

“I worry about you, Travis.” I keep my voice
as calm as I can.

“Worry about yourself. You’ve got enough
problems for both of us.”

Which is true. What Travis doesn’t
understand is that it’s us against the world. A harsh world that
doesn’t give a damn and refuses to give us an inch of leeway. He
knows the facts, but I don’t think he has a very good grasp on the
consequences. I don’t try to change that because the last thing he
needs is a heavy burden to carry around, especially one that he
can’t do anything about. No, this load is mine to haul and it’s
best that way. What’s done is done. My only choice is to go forward
smarter.

So I am.

I’m planning my every step, my every word,
my every breath. And my plan will work. It has to.

I make a left onto our street. For the first
time since my brother got in the car, I look into my rearview
mirror. I see Sig following behind. Not too close. Not too far
either. Despite the way I abhor being spied upon, I find a strange
comfort in his presence, even though he’s only trailing behind me
in a separate vehicle. And the comfort that I draw from him is
arguably the most concerning thing of all.

CHAPTER TWELVE- SIG

I park discreetly across the street from
Tommi’s house. I don’t want to bother her, but I have to keep Tonin
happy for the moment, too. Plus, I’m still curious as to what she’s
up to.

I stare at the white, clapboard house,
probably all of eight hundred to a thousand square feet, max. It
looks shoddy and rundown, like most of the houses in the area. The
driveway is cracked, but there are no weeds. I can see light brown
stuff in the gaping crevices, though, which makes me think they’ve
been on the receiving end of some weed killer in recent days.

If I hadn’t moved in a block and a half
away, I would never have pictured her in a place like this. This
is, without a doubt, the very definition of a questionable
neighborhood. It shocks the shit out of me that her car, which
looks ridiculous sitting outside, doesn’t get trashed or jacked. Of
course, it’s likely that a lot of the element that lives nearby
knows who she is. And who the car belongs to.

I think back to what I read in her very
short file. Tommi Lawrence. No middle initial. Twenty-four years
old. Graduated high school six years ago with shitty grades. Didn’t
get a driver’s license until she was nineteen. No college, no jobs,
no priors. Father’s in the wind, mother’s drawing disability
checks. One brother, one sister. Not much else. Oh, and she’s
screwing a dickhole drug dealer. There’s that.

Just the thought of her with Tonin turns my
blood cold. She seems so much better than him, than the life of a
dealer’s whore. I’m still not convinced that’s the whole story,
though. Not only is she lying to him, she’s hiding something,
something more than her distaste of him. At least what I
think
is her distaste of him. That or my ego’s getting in
the way.

My stomach starts growling around six. It
doesn’t help that something that smells like Italian food is
wafting through my open window. I’m about to call Tonin to ask how
long he wants me to watch her when I see a young boy come out the
front door. It’s the same kid she picked up at the high school
today. Looks more like a shady character tonight. He’s got on dark
jeans and a black hoodie, hood pulled down over his head all the
way to the bill of his hat. His chin is tucked and his eyes stay
focused on the ground at his feet. Weird boy.

I watch him until he takes a left at the
stop sign and disappears out of my line of sight. When I look back
to Tommi’s house, I see her coming down the uneven sidewalk
carrying a covered plate. She changed and is now wearing slinky tan
pants and a striped top with spaghetti straps. Her feet are bare,
something I wouldn’t advise in this area of town.