Chapter 29 Kitty
TWENTY-NINE
KITTY
I wasn’t the type of woman who let a man blow her brains out with sex.
I found that hookups lent more toward mediocre than earth shattering, so shoving the whole thing aside and getting on with my very busy life was no hardship.
But I had a feeling with Stan, it’d be different.
Because I was different around him.
Still me, but…
Fuck.
Better.
Ballsy summed me up, but biting his chin like that? That had been Kitty XXX.
I had to figure it was because he handled me in a way that made me want him more.
He didn’t stop me or hit me to get me to stop—like I’d seen Da do one time with Ma when she’d yelled at him over some bitch called Mandy. Nah, Stan relished my rebellion.
And it made his dick hard.
I’d felt the proof for myself.
He was the kind of man I needed.
One who didn’t try to put me on ice.
Who celebrated my fire.
A man who…
It was too soon to be in love with him, right?
My thoughts had been racing ever since his dick had left my mouth.
Honestly, I could have knelt there the whole damn day like he’d said, holding him there, keeping him nice and warm, maintaining that bridge between us.
I wouldn’t have said cockwarming was my shit, see above: busy life—but holy hell if my pussy didn’t disagree.
It was totally my shit.
And I wanted that fat dick back in my mouth, thank you very much—
“Kitty! Jesus Christ. How many times do I have to say your name?”
I blinked at Raisin, who was scowling at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I could ask you the same question. Didn’t you see the bomb sites?”
“Huh?”
Her nose wrinkled as she shifted her head away from me. “Are you coming down with a cold?”
“What? No. We—” I glanced around us and saw the chaos at the tourist hotspot.
Deep sorrow filled me at the wasted lives. So many people had died and for what?
Sure, this Dead To Me person didn’t sound like the friendliest chick in the henhouse, but had this really been necessary?
“Our hotel is definitely no more.” Neev sounded, for the first time, somber.
Neev was a chirpy person. It took a lot to make her feel down.
That this scene affected her made sense—we’d driven by a goddamn tragedy. One we’d almost starred in!
Raisin gnawed anxiously on a nonexistent hangnail. “Are we going to the consulate, Custanzu?”
I liked that she used his full name.
Stan—that was for me.
And I loved it even more that he didn’t correct her.
“We’re not,” he said from the front seat, where trigger-happy Miguel was driving us somewhere.
Neev chimed in, “Why not?”
“No need. We’re flying private, and I can get you into the country without a passport. You’ll have to apply for them again when you’re home.”
We shared a look, not entirely unsurprised at the illegal nature of this ‘transaction.’
That was what happened when you associated with the mob.
Things that were ingrained in you, ya know, like traveling with a passport and a double date with TSA, nope, not important anymore.
“Why were you flying with us yesterday if you have a private jet?” Neev pushed her head between the driver and passenger seats. “Fuck the planet. I’d travel private alllll the time if I could.”
“My brother needed the jet yesterday.”
“Oh. Neat,” Neev chirped. “I wish Lucas were high enough up the ranks to have a private jet.”
“Where would you fly in it?” Raisin taunted. “You only ever want to go to clubs.”
“I’d go to clubs outside of the tristate area. Duh.”
Though I rolled my eyes because she was so juvenile sometimes, I didn’t stop studying Stan.
That feeling that he was hiding something from me returned with a bang and I didn’t like it. It made me nervous. His expression was serene, but no one could be that fucking serene. Unless they were high. And I’d seen him high.
I let the rest of the journey take place in silence, multiple replays of our argument pre-blow job roiling around inside my head as I tried to figure out what he’d said that had sent my instincts flaring.
I couldn’t help but notice that wherever we stopped, though, flashing red and blue lights greeted us but the cops ignored our SUV, not even questioning when Stan took pictures for Star.
Eventually, having witnessed enough of the brutal aftermath of last night’s insanity, Miguel drove us to a barren field in the middle of buttfuck jungle, where a gleaming jet glittered in the hot sun.
It wasn’t one of those tiny planes, either. It was pretty big.
And Stan owned it.
Or, his family did.
If I had any doubts about their wealth, which I hadn’t, here was proof.
Even Belle, my sister-in-law, whose bank account made Daddy Warbucks envious, didn’t have a plane.
Everyone lit it out of the SUV once Miguel had parked, but he and Stan chatted about something I had no interest in, especially when I saw a package of what looked like ammo being passed from one to the other.
As I absently calculated how many federal laws we’d break within the first ten minutes of entering US air space, Stan began talking to someone in a pilot uniform.
I happened to spot Neev tugging on the sleeve of Miguel’s sports coat like a persistent puppy who’d just learned teeth could do shit like bite.
I heaved a crabby sigh at her obliviousness.
“She’s gone for him.” Raisin folded her arms across her chest. “You watch her jot down ‘Neev hearts Miguel’ on her notepads.”
“He doesn’t look like a fuckboi so that’s something.” I literally felt the nerve in my right eye twitch. “She always goes for those.”
“And we can’t judge him for the murder thing because we both know Cade and Lucas have been there, done that…”
Ahh, Raisin. Ever logical.
“So I should give him my approval to marry her?” I joked as the pair of us watched the hearts pop around our sister’s head.
“Nah, that’d mean she’d move away. I couldn’t deal with her being so far from us.”
“Agreed.” She might be a pain in the ass, but she was our pain in the ass. I pursed my lips when Miguel brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “That was slick.”
“Yeah, she’ll never forget that. Fuck, she’s moving to Mexico, isn’t she?”
I snorted, but it was Stan who informed us, “The Lobos Rojos have a branch in New York.”
Raisin jumped, but I peered at him over my shoulder. “Does the mob allow cross-continental moves because a worker bee has fallen in love?”
“They do when the boss is the cousin of said worker bee.” His own amusement dripped through the statement as my sister fawned around Miguel and Miguel stared at her like she’d set the moon and the stars in the sky.
Was this the makings of an Irish Juliet and her Mexican Romeo?
Without the tragedy, hopefully.
She’d had enough of that in her life.
“We need to leave, Neev,” I called, hating to break this up, but I had a feeling their chat wouldn’t stop anytime soon.
She peeped at me with puppy-dog eyes that I’d literally killed for in the past, and like the sap she made me, I huffed.
Stan rescued me by ordering, “Five minutes. We’ve scheduled air space, Neev.”
The puppy-dog eyes faded, but she didn’t sass him like she would have Lucas or Cade. Instead, she turned back to Miguel and threw her arms around him as if her world started and ended with him.
“Such a drama llama.”
Raisin nodded. “Did she stay in her room last night?”
I glanced at Stan. “I don’t know.”
“I have a feeling Miguel was her guard and that he didn’t stay outside her room.”
“Fuck.”
Raisin winced. “How are we supposed to pretend that we went to Florida if she ever tells Ma how they met?”
“We’re so screwed,” I agreed glumly, but I had to chuckle—just our luck.
“Why aren’t we going there?” Raisin asked Stan.
“Because the Sunshine State is a hotbed of clusterfuckery right now and my ties to the Russians who own that turf are not as strong as the Five Points’. My brother-in-law runs Vegas, so you’ll be nice and safe—”
“But Lucas asked them if we could stay,” she blurted out.
Stan shrugged.
That was the only answer he gave her.
Raisin squinted at him. “You have control issues, don’t you, ‘man we only met yesterday?’”
“After being hauled off a plane by cops that worked for Martinez? Yeah, I have control issues. At least if that happens once we cross the border, I’ll know what the fuck’s going on and will be able to control it in Vegas. Florida, not so much. Which means I’m not leaving you there.”
As for me, I was more than happy with the promise of a fuck in one of his brother-in-law’s hotels…
Despite him being a squirrelly secret hoarder.
I’d shove my standards to the side like any good hypocrite—he owed me at least three orgasms.
Surprisingly, my dogged sister conceded with a gasped: “They hauled you off the plane?”
For the first time, that serene expression faltered. “Cops waited for me on the airbridge.”
“Mary, mother of Jesus.”
Grunting, Stan held out an arm for me. My brows lifted as I realized he was doing that thing he’d done last night—being chivalrous.
And whoooooooeeeee, didn’t that just hit every erogenous zone in my body for the zillionth time.
Slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow, I let him guide me to the jet but, to my sister, called out, “You sounded like Ma just then.”
While she flipped me the bird, Stan murmured, “It’s safe in the plane. I already checked it out.”
My amusement at Raisin’s reaction faded. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Never mind.” He blew out a breath when we made it on board. “I fucking hate planes.”
“You’re saying that to make me feel better about being scared of flying.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll have to tell you about what happened a few years back. Wait, no, I won’t. Because I’ll never get you on another plane if I do.”
My eyes widened in horror because he wasn’t messing around. “Did the engine blow up?”
“No.”
“Did the door get ripped off?”
“No.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “It was work related.”
“Oh.” Well, that struck more terror at the heart of me. Which was the moment I remembered… Fuck. “I haven’t taken any Dramamine. I packed my stash with my belongings at the hotel.” Nervously, I glanced around the fucking field, praying a pharmacy would appear like a mirage.
No such luck.
"I'm so sorry. I should have thought about it sooner,” I whispered nervously.
“No, you do not apologize.” He cupped my chin. “Not when this is my mistake. It's been a chaotic morning. I’m the one who let you down. I should have remembered. Miedda." He turned to Miguel, who was still in the throes of a Neev love-bombing. “Miguel, where’s the nearest pharmacy?”
The younger man pulled a face. “Pharmacy?”
"Yeah. We need travel sickness medication.”
“Sorry, gabacho, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Maybe an hour away from the nearest village. You saw the roads coming here. Trees, trees, and more trees.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Stan shot me a concerned look as I curled my fingers around his wrist. “I won’t forget again.”
Those four words had me leaning against him.
His thumb stroked my racing pulse. "How about this…? You sit on my knee like a good girl for takeoff and landing—”
“I can do that?” I warbled, resting my other palm over his heart as my own fluttered and spiked, my cheeks blooming with heat. Being nervous and horny at the same time was a new experience for me. “Is that allowed?”
“Perks of flying private.” He winked. “We’ll get you through the flight, baby.”
Inside, I melted.
On the outside, I scowled at Raisin, who mock-gagged.
Then, when both my sisters had boarded, with Miguel forlornly studying the jet as he watched us take off from the makeshift runway, I found myself nestled on Stan’s lap, an extra-long safety belt wrapped around us both.
It’d never help me if I had to fly economy, but fuck if this wasn’t a better solution than Dramamine.